Tantalus
by Aurontalia
Summary: Inspired by Kirallie's 'Controlling a Hunter,' and originally published on  it is now coming to you. In an AU where Dean is a vampire and Sam a  really awful  Hunter, several interesting things happen.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: An Opportune Meeting:**

Dean looked around the club hungrily. It had been hours since he'd last fed, and time was running short for his eren. Dean was an atypical vampire in that while he worked for several nests, and had a few friends inside them, he didn't have his own nest, or even a single fledgling. Instead, he kept to the fringes of vampire societies and took jobs as he wanted them, either for fun or for money. Even though he could easily use his powers to coerce humans into doing things for him, he found it much more fun to manipulate them covertly, rather than bother using his powers to earn his way.

This time the job for was a Vlad Vlroklos, a mongrel vampire running a nest of vampires, none over 100. Normally Dean wouldn't have taken such a case, but nothing more interesting had come up in a while, and it was better than doing nothing. Besides, though stupid, the mongrel vampires like Vlroklos (his real name had been Nicholas Vermey; over 60 years ago he'd been turned by accident in a drunken bar incident) they always had some plot to get themselves integrated into the upper classes of vampire society or gain more powers, or try to kill someone so far above them it was amusing that the mongrels though it'd get them anything but killed.

Dean wandered about the bar for a little more before spotting a tall man finishing up a game of pool. Dean reached out his mind to enter the huma- no, not human, Hunter's mind- he corrected himself and turned to the bar to order a drink, keeping a mental eye on the man.

Half an hour and several drinks later the man had finished his game and his compatriots were beginning to get annoyed. Tricked out of half of what had been in their pockets and drunk, Dean knew the Hunter would give some excuse and leave soon if he had any sense. If he didn't, it was liable to end in a fight, which would attract more attention but would be just as fun for him to catch the Hunter.

Dean watched as the young man instead put his pool cue down and slide away from the group of men. A pity. Half of him had half wanted to see the Hunter get into a fight.

Dean finished off his last shot of whisky as he watched two of the men who'd been playing pool argue some more and then head out after the Hunter. Dean waited for a few moments longer and then left himself, through a different door.

Sam walked out of the bar, smiling only once he was sure no one else was around to see him transfer the money he'd taken off the bikers from his outer pocket to one of the many inner ones. It had been stupid of him, but he'd taken almost a thousand dollars off the bikers playing pool. Stupid because they'd gotten pissed off at him anyway, but with a nice little windfall like that he'd be able to pay for a better motel room than the one he, his father, and his grandfather were stuck sharing at the moment. It had been fine when he was a kid, but having three adult men stuck in one boxy little motel room sucked, especially when his father and grandfather loathed each other. Besides, he'd be damned if he was sleeping on the couch again; he still had cramps in his back from last night.

Sam ducked down an alleyway, whistling slightly. The hunt they were on appeared to be a dead end and while he knew the work they did was important, it was nice to have a bit of break now and then. With the extra money he'd be able to get a room to himself, and with his own room came certain perks. There had been several very pretty girls in the bar, and at least one guy, like dark-blond haired one who'd watched him play pool a couple of times.

That right there was another reason to get out of the same motel room as his father. Sam might not have been as much of a ladies' man as one of his cousins, like Andrew, but he wasn't a monk either, not by anyone's standards.

Especially not his father's. Sam remembered when his father had caught him fucking some guy in their room three years ago. Ass deep in the guy, his father had had no way of miss-interpreting the situation. He hadn't said anything to Sam afterwards, but things had been different between them, and Sam knew he disapproved. No straight men in the trenches his ass; his father was as straight as they came. Or was it athiests? He couldn't remember.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Sam didn't notice the shadows of two figures approaching from behind him.

A sudden blow to the back of his head caught him off guard and knocked him sideways.

Shite, Sam thought, turning to face his attackers. Clearly the bikers had decided to 'win back' a little of their money by beating the shit out of him.

A lazy punch followed and Sam blocked, bringing a leg up to catch the man in the stomach. The man wheezed and dropped whatever he'd used to hit Sam and his friend stepped up, an angry look on his face and a metal punching device in his hand.

A second, harder punch followed, and he felt his nose break and blood begin to flow down his face. He stumbled backwards and started to get his bearings before one of the bikers grabbed his arm and kicked his legs out from under him.

"Going to make you pay for that, you little shit," the first man said, getting to his feet and picking up the stick again.

Sam twisted his arm in the first man's grip and turned his body to avoid the second man's strike with the stick before stamping his foot down on the first man's foot. The second hand followed with a punch aimed at Sam's gut and it connected as Sam found himself unable to back far enough away, caught against the other man and the wall behind him. There wasn't much use pushing your opponent away if he only hit a wall.

Sam groaned and he felt the first man grab his arms and pull him back so the second man could punch him in the stomach again.

"Stupid, fucking, cheating scum," the man said, delivering a sloppy punch to Sam's jaw, splitting his lip.

Sam spat blood from his mouth and started to lift his leg to kick the man. He wouldn't have to get it very high to take out one of his knees and once he had that it'd be easy to get the other man.

To his surprise, Sam saw the second man jerked back and thrown against the other side of the alley.

A very pretty face replaced the biker's face and grinned at Sam. Despite being slightly beaten up, Sam could see that the man was gorgeous.

"Think you can handle him?" the man asked jerking his chin at the man holding Sam's arms, his grip looser now in shock.

The man took Sam's slight head jerk as a yes and spun to catch the second man in the chest with a high kick, falling back against the wall again.

Sam rolled his shoulders and elbowed the man holding him, using it as a way to shove off more than shove the man away and turned halfway to punch the man in the jaw, a perfect uppercut under his chin, instantly knocking him out.

Behind him he saw the other biker stumble away from the new man, starting down the alleyway away from them, his face a bloody mess.

"Thanks," Sam said, and the new man turned to look at him, grinning. He was shorter than Sam, maybe 6 feet, with short dark blond hair, green eyes, and luscious kissable lips.

The man nodded. 'You'd have handled it fine, I just sped things up a bit."

Sam jerked his head, more in acknowledgement than agreement and stepped out of his corner.

The man looked him over for a second then spun on his heel and started down the alley.

Sam jogged slightly to catch up and fell into step with the stranger. "Sam." he said, holding out a hand.

The man took it, his smile returning, "Dean."

They fell back into step and continued down the alley.

"Any idea why those guys jumped you?" Dean asked, turning his face so that his eyes caught a bit of light and glinted in the night.

Sam grimaced. "Got them a bit drunker than I should've," he replied. "Took quite a bit off them."

Dean nodded. "Got a bit drunker than you should've by most measures," he said.

"I'm not drunk," Sam protested, "Not yet,"

**End Chapter**


	2. Chapter 2: Drinking Games

**Chapter Two: Drinking Games**

"I'm not drunk." Sam protested. "Not yet," and stumbled slightly on a piece of garbage.

He shook his head. "I'm really not drunk yet," he protested, knowing what it looked like; some idiot barely-of-age 21 year old getting soused in a bar and then getting his ass beaten up by a couple of fat bikers.

Dean was looking at him consideringly, his eyes unreadable. Sam wasn't sure if

he was interested in screwing Sam, or if he was just deciding how best to get rid of him.

(In truth it was neither; by now Dean had realized how easy it would be to feed off of Sam, but didn't feel like it for some reason. Someone who was clever enough to manipulate men -men who probably spent every night playing pool at that- out of almost a thousand dollars was certainly interesting. Couple that with a Hunter, one as young and obviously inexperienced as Sam was, it was a miracle he was still alive. Dean had met -possibly- hundreds of idiot "Hunters" like Sam, often Nephilem let out too soon and watched them all get themselves killed.)

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a none-too-clean handkerchief and handed it to Sam.

"Deal with that," he said, jerking his head to indicate Sam's bloody nose. He doubted it was broken, but he was almost sure it was fractured and would hurt quite a bit in the morning.

"Do you have somewhere to go back to?"

Sam shook his head in response. "Well yeah," he amended, "But it's not really worth going to yet. The job we're on, it's going to take a while."

They fell back into step down the main road, the lights of cars flashing as they drove past. It wasn't really that late, maybe 1 o'clock.

"Oh?" Dean asked, "And what sort of job is that?"

Sam squirmed visibly. Obviously he wasn't about to tell Dean, a complete stranger, that he hunted monsters in the night. "It's a sort of, family business" he said at last.

Dean decided to let it go. It was always fun asking people questions they didn't want to answer and seeing their reactions.

"Uh huh," he nodded. "So you're planning to spend the rest of the night on the town then?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "Was planning on finding some bar, you know," he said, the

implication clear in his words.

"There's a decent place a block or so over," Dean offered. He hadn't been looking for anything other than a meal and maybe some fun tonight, but information on Hunters was always sale able, and with luck Sammy might provide him with all three.

A few hours later they were at the bar, sitting on a pair of stools with a ream of empty, sticky, shot glasses in front of them.

"Your turn," Sam chuckled and Dean faked a groan. By now if he were human he would be very drunk; being as he wasn't human, he also wasn't drunk, though he was starting to feel a bit tipsy.

He downed his shot and cast his gaze around the room before settling on a blond girl pawing the arm of her angry-looking male companion.

"Blond one in the corner with her boyfriend or without?" he asked, jerking his chin in their direction.

"Without," Sam replied this time. "Pissed-drunk isn't fun when someone's pissed-off."

Dean nodded in acceptance and scanned the bar again. "Brunette with her friend," he suggested, and Sam looked to see the two girls, one slender, one curvy (or fat, if you felt like being mean). "Neither," Sam said and reached for yet another glass.

He downed it and groaned. "This game should be over" he whined, and Dean nodded, leaning back.

"But no one's gotten laid yet," he said, smirking.

There was a silent moment and he thought for a second he'd either gone too far or else that Sam was too drunk to recognize the invitation.

But Sam stepped off of his seat and leaned forward and caught Dean's lips with his own, bent at an awkward angle to kiss the smaller man. Dean gasped in surprise and half panicked. He hadn't fed in a few hours, would Sam notice his flesh was a little colder than it should be?

Apparently not, since Sam reached an arm around Dean's waist to pull him off his seat and closer, Dean obligingly reaching up to kiss him.

Sam's hand found Dean's ass and he groped it thoroughly before dragging his hand forward and starting to unbuckle Dean's belt.

Dean broke the kiss and leaned back reluctantly.

"We should take this somewhere else," he rasped and Sam nodded, slipping his hand up onto Dean's shoulder.

They left the bar quickly and got into Dean's Impala, kissing in between green lights at the intersection. Sam would've gone further, grabbing at Dean's crotch several times, but Dean wasn't about to let something like this turn into car sex.

When they finally got to the motel, Sam was kissing Dean's neck while he half carried the larger man down the hallway and unlocked the door. Thankfully the room was small and Sam half fell, half dove toward the bed before Dean pounced on him, straddling his waist and starting on the buttons of his shirt.

Sam leaned up and caught his lips in a brutal kiss, his hand reached around to the back of Dean's neck to pull him closer before rolling over so their positions were reversed.

Sam's ran his hands up over Dean's chest and pulled his shirt over his head, breaking the kiss. Their lips met in the middle again before Dean found Sam's jaw line and made him whine with little bites placed over it, trailing down his neck to lick his clavicle, still working on the buttons of Sam's shirt, his jacket already discarded on the floor.

Sam's found Dean's belt again and started undoing it, Dean arching up so Sam could pull his pants down. Sam grasped Dean's cock between his hands hard and began moving it up and down, causing Dean to abandon Sam's clavicle and gasp.

Dean arched upwards when Sam brushed the pad of his thumb over the head of his member hard and moved back to brush his lips against Sam's before he felt Sam's hand move towards his hole, the fingers massaging the outer lip.

"Can I?" Sam breathed and Dean nodded, latching onto Sam's lips, kissing him so hard his fangs almost came down.

When Sam's index finger slipped into Dean he broke the kiss and moaned and Sam inched the finger up further inside him.

"God Dean," Sam whispered, "You're so tight," and then withdrew the first finger halfways to move a second inside him, scissoring all the way until he reached the prostate and brushed a nail across it.

Dean dug his nails into Sam's back, moving forward, wanting more and Sam raked his nails across it, harder this time, one after the other.

"Do it Sammy," Dean gasped. "Fuck me," and he saw a wicked grin spread across Sam's face.

Sam withdrew his fingers, leaving Dean feeling empty for a second before he felt Sammy's cock breach the lips of his entrance, larger than his fingers and moving so slowly up inside him.

"Harder Sammy" He breathed, and felt Sam speed up, his cock reaching further up inside Dean than his fingers ever could. Dean screamed as Sam moved entirely into him, his balls brushing against Dean's ass.

Sam moved back and forth slowly inside Dean until he climaxed, shooting a full, warm load inside Dean before slipping out of him.

He slid off of Dean, panting in the warm night air. Outside the window he could see the sun starting to creep across the horizon.

After a few minutes Sam turned back to Dean to see him apparently asleep. Sam reached an arm around Dean to settle into sleep himself, curling around Dean like he was a kid with a favorite teddy bear.

**End Chapter**


	3. Chapter 3: Morning After

**Chapter Three: Morning After**

Dean waited until Sammy fell into a deep sleep, and then carefully slide out from under his arm.

While he certainly didn't mind staying in bed after sex (even with the sexy mess), he was liable to bite Sammy if he stayed much longer.

Already the slow, regular thump-thump of his heart beating in his chest against Dean's back was enough to make Dean drop his fangs. He wanted to turn around and sink his teeth into Sam's smooth neck, covered with little traces of old scars and add another two to the others.

So it was time to leave.

Time to leave unless he felt like telling the truth.

While Dean had considered telling humans in the past, and had told a few, telling a Hunter was out of the question, no matter how young. Even if Sammy didn't get angry, he was bound to tell someone, who likely would be a Hunter and very angry.

It was much better to not tell him.

Dean cast one more look at the Hunter sleeping on the bed and picked up a shirt off the floor to wipe most of the mess off of him before giving it up as a bad job and getting dressed, ignoring the mess still dried to his skin.

A short while later he was gone, a brief note stuck in Sam's jacket hanging off the doorknob, the room paid up and the land lady Coerced to let Sam sleep in.

While Dean wasn't about to stay and bite Sammy, or tell him the entire truth, he also wasn't about to just vanish off the face of the earth.

An hour of driving down old broken down roads later Dean turned the Impala down a little road and drove until it became smooth again. A few moments later a gothic gate and stonewalls appeared, the usual entrance to a vampire nest or coven, if they could afford it. It was no wonder the Hunters were killing the Mongrel vampires off really, Dean mused, since they insisted on such elaborate and stereotypical displays of power. They might as well have just painted a sign on the door that said "idiotic vampires here; stake at will!" or something, for all that it was hidden away off the main roads and far into the countryside.

Stopping the car beside the door, Dean rolled down the window and used a nail to slice open one of the veins in his wrist. A drop of blood fell onto the pad below, and it flashed a bright gold. The vein healed as swiftly as it had been cut and the doors swung open silently. At least they'd bothered with some security, Dean thought.

The blood identifier was one of the newer innovations of the vampiric world. Basically, a drop of blood identified the donor as human, vampire, mongrel vampire, demon, shape-shifter, etc. with some varieties on blood type, and vampire or shape-shifter lineage.

What most Hunters didn't know was that the supernatural world was mostly out of their sight. Sure they got most of the Mongrel vampires, their blood so diluted they couldn't step into the sun without burning, the latent shape-shifters, the ones restricted to human form, and some of the Guardian Beasts and feral shape-shifters, but most hadn't dealt with anything better than that in centuries. A Greater Demon, one who was actually a Demon with a corporal form in the human realm, not the tortured soul of a human come back to possess people, hadn't been killed in over a thousand years.

Mind you, they hadn't been seen in quite a while at all, so there was some debate regarding their existence.

Dean stepped through the front doors of the mansion and wrinkled his nose. There were maybe six to eight vampires on the entire floor, all drunk as hell along with a few dead bodies, their meal for the night.

That was the problem with mongrel vampires; no control. They were the result of vampire lineages bled too thin over generations of vampires, one weak vampire siring another, and so on, until the result was hardly worth calling a vampire.

Dean walked past them and down the stairs into the basement where another sensor waited, and behind that, stored blood. Not the best blood in the world, but better than that of the crack-whores and drunks the Mongrels liked to pick up (for the extra high and then how easy it was). It had been at the insistence of one of Vlad's older fledgelings, Jenny, who'd been some sort of medical student before catching a late bus home and getting caught herself. Vlad was one of the cleverer Mongrel vampires that way; he liked to catch smart people in bad situations and make them work for him.

Jenny nodded, her auburn head glinted in the light, and she ducked her head down subserviently. It was another common trait of the Mongrels; immediate subservience to stronger vampires, regardless of Lineage, if they noticed them at all. Plus Jenny was the sort of nerdy girl who'd spent her time drooling over hot jocks and hiding behind textbooks before, too shy to do anything.

Dean yanked open the cooler door and grabbed a few of the blood bags, not bothering to note the type.

He willed himself away to his own room in the mansion, a tiny thing with the walls coated in midnight blue velvet for some reason. The bed took up most of the wall, this time covered in blue satin and still unmade from a few nights ago.

He could've just bypassed the weak spells Vlad had up protecting the mansion (the work of blood witches and then a few things he'd picked up from old books) and jumped straight to the basement, but that would have been rude, and even if he hadn't triggered the alarms (Dean was quite good at getting through spells without triggering their alarm; he has assassinated several people that way), it would've meant leaving the Impala outside and Dean loved his car.

Dean dropped the bags onto the middle of the bed and sat down himself, leaning back to bite one of the bags, and feel the cold blood fill his mouth, all copper and salt. (Privately Dean was not surprised the blood had been rejected; he could practically taste the KFC 'chicken' in it still).

He liked to pretend it was Sammy whose neck he was biting.

Sam would probably be making little moans, and he'd be sitting on the bed beneath Dean, Sam's arms around him.

Dean could think about how he'd break off biting Sammy to kiss him and bite his lips, the taste of Sam's blood filling their mouths before going back for more.

The blood bag emptied quickly and Dean threw it on the floor to snatch up the next. Not going to bite Sammy, he told himself sternly. Not going to bite him for fun, not going to bite him for sex. Not until I explain things, he thought, and shook the remaining thoughts out of his head. Dinner was not the time to be thinking about sex with Sam, even if he was half hard already.

Dean was incredibly glad he'd left a note behind.

With a sigh, he slide back into the bed, his eyes slowly turning a brighter green as he fed.

Sam awoke alone in the bed. The sun was streaming through the open window and the bed was a sticky mess, parts of the sheets sticking to him. He listened for a moment or so, mildly hung-over, and sighed.

Clearly Dean was gone.

Sam groaned and slide out of bed, his hand grabbing the bedside table to steady himself.

As much fun as last night had been, he was NEVER getting as drunk as he had last night again. Never never never. Nothing was worth feeling this bad in the morning.

Well, almost nothing. Sam smirked in remembrance of the night before. That maybe, was worth the hangover afterwards.

Sam stumbled towards the bathroom and got into the shower, turning the water onto cold first and leaning against the side to let the water wash the night's leavings off of him.

He couldn't help thinking how much more fun a morning shower would've been if Dean'd stuck around to help. Dean seemed to handle his liquor far better than Sam had, even if he'd fallen asleep so quickly, and morning shower sex with Dean would've been great if last night was anything to go by.

Sam turned the water onto hot after the mess had washed off him and let the water sooth his sore muscles for a minute before turning it off and stepping out.

Even with Dean gone, there was still the hunt to work on, and his absence to explain to his father. Sam might have been 21 and an adult, but his father was still ridiculously protective of him, always wanting him to call and stay where John could see him. At 21 it had gone from mildly to very annoying.

Sam sighed again and finished toweling off, his hair a mess.

Outside the bathroom were his dirty clothes, his shirt a disaster, covered in semen. Sam wrinkled his nose and dropped it on the floor. Sam picked up his jeans (equally a mess), and pulled them on, thankful that they were mostly clean, his eyes searching for his jacket.

He finally spotted it hanging off the doorknob, which was not where he remembered putting it. He frowned for a second then gave it up and pulled the jacket off the doorknob to put it on and opened the door.

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and walked out of the motel room. Inside his left pocket was his wallet, as usual, but inside the right-

Inside the right was a piece of paper Sam definitely didn't remember putting there.

He pulled the paper out to read a brief sequence of numbers off of it, and below, a messily scrawled 'Dean.'


	4. Chapter 4: Evil Plans Afoot

**Chapter Four: Evil Plans Underfoot**

A red haired, balding man wearing a badly fitting wig sat at an ornate desk overlooking the grounds of a gothic mansion. In the distance the feral dogs he had released onto the grounds howled, and owls who-who'd. There was no bats sadly, because he'd had to convert the basement of the mansion into rooms for the various vampires he'd created, and having to sleep through the day in a room full of bat dropping was more than most were willing to stand.

So instead he'd invested in a large number of coffins, and together with several of his fledgling vampires had Coerced several workers to make the house livable. They'd been drained periodically, when they got annoying, and the bodies dumped in the base of the house in with the cement.

They couldn't dump the bodies into the bog nearby anymore because it wasn't like it had been sixty years ago when he'd been changed, and the police actually thought to search places like that.

Although Vlad was not a particularly old vampire, but he still liked to think of the Good Old Days before the vampires had signed the Accords with the Nephilim. Not just the general, 'we won't kill you; you don't kill us' that some Nephilim established with particular covens, but actual laws regarding who vampires could kill without the Nephilim going after them, and vice versa.

Typically no one had asked him what he thought about the matter, and now life was very boring for vampires. Sure they were immortal, but not allowed to kill humans? Not allowed to change who they wanted? Not allowed to infiltrate the governments of small, impoverished countries and set up their own dynastic tyrannical rule? Pah. Not worth it.

And then of course there were the power imbalances.

Some vampires got special abilities. They could transform into animals, vanish in plain site, control human (and sometimes vampire) minds without effort, and transport themselves from one place to the next in some cases.

This meant that without humans to hunt (well, not hunt in an obvious way anyway), a large number of the older vampires had turned to hunting the younger ones. Some would actually purposely make humans into weak fledgling vampires just so they could hunt, drain and kill them, after letting them rampage a bar or two so they had an excuse of course.

To avoid such a fate, Vlad had set up his own little business. He'd fine idiot humans, ones no one would miss, usually subservient weak ones, and turn them and then sell them in groups to the highest bidder.

Life was good.

From there he'd built up a nice little network, spies, illegal weapons, manufacturing new technology or altering existing technology for his own purposes, using those few fledglings he'd caught coming out from late labs at university, and then worked to make himself indispensable to the other vampires. He couldn't stay in more than one town for more than a few months, which made establishing a base a nuisance, but it was worth it.

Of course that didn't mean any of the coven leaders listened to him. That didn't mean he could get any allied vampires (ones attached to a particular nest or coven) to do any real work for him.

Instead he was stuck hiring mercenaries like Dean. There had been a problem with several Reptilian shifters from the bog nearby, a group of large, angry men who turned into eight foot long 'gators and liked dragging tourists from the roads down to eat in the bog. They were working outside the accords of course, and liable to get killed, but only when the Nephilim got around to it, which wasn't going to be for a while.

On his own, Vlad wasn't going to try and take down a pack of shapeshifters, especially not 'gators, so instead he'd pulled together the necessary cash (he'd had to change one of the bank tellers and get him to hack into several bank accounts to get enough), and had paid Dean to take care of them.

A few days of waiting until a very muddy Dean had returned, and the job had been done, and Vlad had been out a few hundred thousand.

Dean had spent the next few nights playing around the town, drinking in various bars and clubs to bring back some drunken human (or once, two), and proceed to play. Some of the fledglings were getting jealous, since Dean had enough control not to kill his playmates, and was strong enough to Coerce them into forgetting the rest.

Last night had been different though. Dean had come back and fed from the storage of bags the vampires had stolen from the hospital. Even odder, he'd come back alone, though smelling of sex.

Then he'd left in the morning shortly with his things, and had checked into a suite room in one of the town's three star hotels. Vlad had heard about vampires going incognito (he privately suspected Dean spent his entire life incognito; no special talismans, few black clothes, and sure his car was black and somewhat spikey, but nothing like what a vampire should drive in Vlad's opinion), but a three star hotel was barely worth staying at, and he wondered what Dean was up to.

Dean might have been in his employ previously, and Dean could quite easily twist Vlad's head off (among other, less pleasant options), as long as he didn't know what Vlad was up to, Vlad could easily earn back what he'd spent hiring Dean in the first place by selling information on him to the highest bidder.

There was just the problem of what he was up to.

Vlad leaned back in his chair and reached under his wig to rub at the bald spot on his head. Possibly enough for him to see about getting the secondary transformation. Some people liked to pretend the world ran on morals and good will, and dolphins saving people from plane crashes in the ocean. Vlad knew better; it was money.

**End Chapter**


	5. Chapter 5: Angry Fathers

**Chapter Five: Angry Fathers**

Note: To explain Sam's ~5 ish cousins, I'm giving Mary two sisters, Rebecca and Leah (I don't remember what the explanation was for the others).

_ Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and walked out of the motel room. Inside his left pocket was his wallet, as usual, but inside the right-_

_ Inside the right was a piece of paper Sam definitely didn't remember putting there. _

_ He pulled the paper out to read a brief sequence of numbers off of it, and below, a messily scrawled 'Dean.'_

Since the note, Sam had toyed with the idea of calling Dean and had approached the phone multiple times only to hang up before finishing dialing or let the phone ring once and then cut it off. He was glad his phone wasn't listed, or else he was sure Dean would be creeped out by the number of times he'd called and then hung up.

It was likely they'd end up leaving the town soon anyway. The hunt hadn't turned up anything so far; even the rumor about killer alligators had lead to a dead end. Another week, maybe two, and they'd head off to the next job unless something turned up.

Maybe they'd even end up touching back to the home base before the next job. Despite having been out hunting with his father and co. for about two years his grandmother Deana (who'd done most of the work raising him, leaving John and Samuel to hunt down the monster that had killed Mary) had insisted on it, noting that without proper schooling Sam wouldn't end up in a good position, either as an adult or a hunter. Besides, with numerous cousins from Mary's sisters Rebecca and Leah they had plenty of back up.

He'd been dragged on yet another run for food with his father. As much as he resented being dragged out on errands, it was better than staying in the pokey motel room. Most of his night's winnings had been taken up when the motel manager noted that his father's credit card had bounced for the next few days payments, so he didn't have his own room again, and wasn't likely to get it.

But with his father and Samuel griping at each other, and his father passive-aggressively pissed-off about Sam coming home late and smelling of sex. Three years since he'd found out his son swung both ways and he still got angry about it, though he didn't tend to do anything about it, but rather just be passive-aggressive, not speaking to Sam for days afterwards. As though screwing some random chick was better; at least with guys Sam couldn't get them pregnant. He half expected his father to say something about it while they'd driven to the store, but instead he'd just gripped the steering wheel a little too tight and stomped on the brakes a couple of times.

At least while grocery shopping he could take half the list and avoid his father the rest of the time.

With a sigh, Sam broke away from his father and walked toward the front of the store to grab one of the hand-held baskets. If there was one thing he didn't want to deal with, it was John Winchester and his medieval attitude toward Sam having fun.

Dean was starting to get annoyed. His phone kept ringing once, and then hanging up before he could answer it. He was considering just throwing it out and getting a new one, but Sam had his number, and switching it would make leaving the note rather redundant.

He strolled absently mindedly down the sidewalk, noting the little shops and various people, all going about their boring lives. Sometimes Dean liked to pretend to be human and normal; get a little job at a business, play the 9 to 5 game with an apartment, before getting bored and leaving. One of the perks of immortality.

Dean walked absently down the street to the supermarket. Not somewhere he'd normally bother going, but the steak was better there than the butcher's shop oddly, and the workers switched enough for none of them to really notice he was buying enough steak to feed a wolf pack. Even if he didn't need to eat, he liked to sometimes, and steak was always nice.

Inside the supermarket were quite a few people, and few of the seriously underage teenaged girls (undoubtedly dragged their by their parents) stared and giggled at him.

While Dean had always liked pie, sometimes it could be down right annoying, so he caught the most annoying girl's eye (she was now flipping her hair and arching her back, smiling at him), and reached inside her mind. Quick as flipping a switch, she turned back to her phone, completely forgetting about him, the rest of her idiot friends following, if only to see what was so important on her phone.

Near the front of the store, one of the generic grey plastic hand-buggies dangling from his hand was Sam, followed by an older dark-haired man.

Dean smirked and carefully walked in his direction, following just out of his sight until he'd walked down the Asian aisle.

"The little mushrooms do not fry up well, if that's what you're wondering," Dean said, coming to a stop beside Sam and jerking his head at the mushrooms. Dean didn't really know about the mushrooms.

Sam dropped the package, startled, and flushed.

"Um no, just, um" he started and stopped, running a hand through his hand, his bangs flopping over his forehead.

Dean turned and looked over his shoulder to see the older man glaring hatefully at him. He could even see the little temple-vein throbbing if he tried.

"Older boyfriend Sammy?" he asked teasingly. It was highly unlikely the other man was Sam's boyfriend, but Dean did so like to push his buttons.

Sam blushed a furious red. "No!" he said loudly. "That's my father,"

"Your very pissed off father by the looks of it," Dean replied, turning to face the man, standing protectively in front of Sam. Despite the fact that men had been screwing other men for just as long as they'd been screwing women, someone always seemed to have a problem with it.

The man walked toward them and stopped a few feet further away than necessary, as though afraid he would catch something.

"This is what you were doing last night instead of work I suppose?" he asked in a tight voice, jerking his head sharply at Dean.

Sam ignored the question. "So did you forget something dad?" he asked, trying to avoid one of his father's blow-ups. While John Winchester was unlikely to scream at Sam in public, back at the motel, in the car, out of sight, was a different matter entirely.

Sam's father struggled with himself, shooting several accusatory looks at Dean before saying "I need the other half of the list."

Sam shrugged, clearly expecting something worse and reached into a pocket to pull the scrap of white paper out.

He stepped past Dean to have his father snatch the paper out of his hand.

"Right, so, "Sam said, clearly having no idea where to go with the conversation.

"I'll finish this," his father said, "You're clearly too busy getting it off to do your fucking job,"

Dean started to step out from behind Sam only to have Sam grab his arm as he went past.

"Don't" Sam said quietly, his eyes on the ground, and waited until his father was out of sight until releasing Dean.

"Want to talk about it?" Dean asked, and when Sammy shook his head, reached out a hand to place on his shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with what we did you know," he said.

"I know," Sam replied, looking out from under his bangs at Dean. "But he doesn't"

Sam followed Dean around for the rest of the trip, unwilling to go after his father and deal with things. Dean placed his order with the deli (smaller than he wanted, but explaining his need for 18 or so 12 pound steaks would get complicated).

After the checkout Sam waited for him and helped him carry it out to the Impala, looking lost.

"Need a ride home?" he asked, since he couldn't sense the other man in the parking lot any more.

Sam shook his head, "I don't want to go home," he stated, and started walking aimlessly away from the Impala.

"Want to come back with me then?" Dean asked, and Sam turned back to face him with a grin.

Sam flung his jacket down on the floor. Clearly he was back to being pissed about his father.

"Hey, it's okay Sam, everyone has bitchy something in their family," Dean said, putting the keys to the Impala on the dresser.

Sam smirked at the description of his father as a bitch. "Yeah, but mine's worse than most,"

"Just let it go, it's not worth being pissed about," Dean tried again, reaching out a hand to caress Sam's check.

"I suppose not," Sam replied, and smiled wryly, his hand coming up around Dean's and wrapping around it, stepping forward.

"So," he trailed off, "A whole afternoon to ourselves,"

"A whole afternoon," Dean agreed. This was what he'd been waiting for. He crossed the room tugging Sam after him and sat down on the bed, inviting Sam into his lap, his legs spread halfway open, just enough of a suggestion.

Sam looked at them and let go of Dean's hand, getting down on his knees instead.

"I have a better idea," he said, and Dean felt the blood rushing to his nether regions.

Sam sat back and reached a hand up into Dean's unused belt buckles, pulling him forward to the edge of the bed.

Dean nodded and moved his legs apart slightly, Sam moved between them, fingers popping top button and the unzipping Dean's jeans as he went.

Dean moved his hips up to help Sam slide his pants off of him and stared for a moment.

"Sam," he growled, at the inactivity. "Not going to back out are you?" he asked, and Sam placed one palm on his thigh, dragging his tongue down the inner thigh on the other side, his hair following.

"My god," Sam breathed, "You're huge," and Dean smirked.

Sam reached a hand around to cup Dean's balls in his hand, rubbing his index finger in between them before bringing it between them and releasing them to swing free.

Sam placed one hand open palmed on Dean's thigh and bent his head down to lick the inside of the other, his hair trailing after his tongue.

"Like this Dean?" he asked, looking up at him through hooded eyes, and without waiting for a reply, bent back down to tease the end of Dean's cock with his teeth.

Dean moaned and jerked his hips forward. Sam withdrew his head and wrapped his hand around Dean's cock, using his index finger to trace the vein along it before catching the foreskin when his finger came to the tip, moving his entire hand along after it as it rolled back.

When Dean's cock was red and leaking, he reached his forefinger and thumb to clamp around the base and took it lightly between his lips, using his tongue to flick the end.

He waited until Dean was gasping above him before going further to engulf it, letting it fall back down his throat and then bobbing up and down on it.

Dean's hips jerked and Sam let go of base, drawing his head back as Dean came, spurting white fluid all down Sam's shirt, some of it falling off onto his jeans and the floor.

"Fuck," Sam swore, leaning back as Dean collapsed back onto the bed, spent.

Sam eased out of his shirt and used the cleanest bits to wipe his jeans off.

"That's what you get for not swallowing Sammy," Dean said dreamily, still on the bed, and felt Sam grab his upper thighs and lean forward over him on the bed.

"Hey!" he protested and leant down over Dean on one elbow, "What about me?"

"Mhm,"

Dean waited a moment later until Sam pulled off of him, giving up apparently, and twisted around with him until they were facing on the bed on their sides.

Dean reached one hand out to caress Sam's side, drawing his hand down until he reached the top of Sam's jeans. He hooked a thumb inside and slowly rubbed a circle into Sam's hipbone, leaning forward to kiss Sam's neck.

Sam's hands found his belt buckle and Dean felt the cold rasp of metal against his skin as Sam started to draw it off. Dean grabbed Sam's hand and pulled it up to his mouth to nipple gently on each finger.

"We've got all afternoon," he said, flicking his eyes up to Sam's confused face. Sam smiled and bent his head down to kiss Dean's neck. All afternoon indeed.

**End Chapter**


	6. Chapter 6: Showers and Secrets

**Chapter Six: Showers and Secrets**

Dean followed Sam into the shower slowly, knowing that if he were human his body would be aching from last night, getting fucked till he'd almost let his fangs slide out. He'd have loved to pull Sammy down and fuck him till he screamed, trail little bites up his chest to his neck, but he knew he couldn't. If he did, he didn't know if he'd be able to resist biting him and then the cat would be out of the bag so to speak.

"Dean?" came Sam's voice from the bathroom and Dean entered to see what was wrong.

His eyes met the scene of Sam dangling a pair of black rubber handcuffs off of one finger. "Plans for me later?" he smirked.

Dean shook his head. "Plans for me later." he replied, and moved past Sam to step into the shower.

Sam looked hurt for a second and Dean realized he'd misinterpreted.

"I can't tie myself up with those things you know," he said, his lush lips forming a 'come hither' smile.

He saw Sam's eyes widen before he stepped into the shower after Dean and slid the fogged glass door shut. Dean turned to face the shower head and reached to turn it on and then held out his hands for Sam to slip first one cuff over his wrist and then lift it up to thread it around the top metal bar, forcing Dean to stand up off his heels. He pulled Dean's other wrist through the links and began kissing the side of his neck, his hands moving to wrap around Dean's cock in the front, his own cock half hard already and pressed into Dean's ass.

Hot water poured down on them and Dean felt Sam rubbing against his crack, biting and licking his sides while he jerked Dean off.

"Fuck me Sam," Dean said, arching back against him, up on his tip-toes.

"You sure?" Sam asked, flicking his tongue into Dean's ear and Dean groaned in response, moving his legs apart.

Sam moved his hand up to Dean's nipple and tweaked on it, slowly bringing his

cock up to brush against Dean's hole and then past it, his member moving to hit Dean's balls while his hand twisted around the base of Dean's cock.

"Come _on_ Sammy," Dean growled and felt Sam thrust against him, harder this time.

"Shouldn't I be the one ordering you about since you're tied up?" Sam asked, half laughing.

"Yes sir," Dean replied, half joking. "Now fuck me,"

"Say please,"

Dean laughed at that, his whole body shaking and then gasped sharply as Sam used it to move inside him, stopping halfway.

"Like that?" he asked, grunting and slowly moving back and forth on the spot, halfway in halfway out, torturing Dean with the inactivity.

Dean pushed his hips back and he felt Sam move away, letting go, and he slipped for a second, his full weight resting on the handcuffs.

"Fuck, Sammy!" he yelled, and felt Sam run his hands along his sides, one hand reaching up to twist Dean's nipple.

"Gotta stop being so greedy Dean," Sam replied, lifting him back up, moving back.

"Gotta get a shorter shower bar," Dean grumbled and Sam worked his lips along the side of his neck.

Sam reached one hand between Dean's legs and moved a finger to find his puffy red hole, stroking the edges with his finger before thrusting it all the way inside, curling and uncurling his finger once he was in.

This time when Dean pushed back against it, Sam didn't pull back but instead bit down hard on the muscle between his shoulder and neck, his teeth bruising.

"Sam," Dean panted, wishing he didn't have to, "Don't bite," and he felt Sam release him and begin kissing the spot instead.

While Dean had no problem being bitten, and that drinking a little vampire blood would not change a human, it still wasn't good for Sam unless he wanted the Change. Plus, it would give Dean more control over Sam, and while Dean certainly liked playing with the human, somehow mentally controlling him seemed, dirty.

"How are you still cold?" Sam asked in exasperation, and Dean realized he'd stopped.

Dean made a questioning noise and turned halfway to face Sam.

"Last night you were like a corpse, all cold even after you decided to snuggle up to me like I was a teddy bear," Sam replied,

"Hey, I'm not the one who stole all the covers," Dean joked while mentally cursing. Sam couldn't find out. Not yet. Not this way.

"And even after that, and with the shower on hot, you're still cold." Sam stated, as though waiting for Dean to give him some idiot explanation.

"Well the thing is Sammy," Dean began and cut off.

"You're lying to me about something aren't you?" Sam asked, an edge appearing in his voice.

"Sam-" Dean started and began pulling the handcuffs off. He turned to face Sam and saw Sam jerk away from him and fall against the misted glass wall of the shower.

"Vampire!" Sam breathed and immediately Dean saw his hands reach out to grasp for a weapon and his heart twisted.

"Sam," he tried and reached out a hand, the other still entangled in the black rubber handcuffs.

"No, you!" Sam gasped and yanked the door open, somehow getting out before Dean could free himself.

Sam had reached the sink and pulled out a razor, holding the pathetic weapon before him.

"Sam," Dean tried again and Sam darted in with the razor, slicing against his bicep.

Dean reached forward to grab Sam's wrist and pressed the younger man back against the door.

"Get off of me!" Sam snarled and Dean felt him twist the razor to cut at Dean's arm, a few drops of blood and skin falling to the floor.

Dean dug his fingernails into Sam's wrist until he dropped the razor and reached the other hand up to Sam's face. He waited until Sam stopped breathing hard, still able to feel his heart going a mile a minute from fear.

"I'm really very sorry about this Sammy," he said, and saw Sam's eyes widen before Dean reached inside his head and turned the switch off.

Sam slumped into Dean's arms, a sudden dead weight, and Dean lifted him up and opened the door to place him gently on the bed, still a mess from last night's activities.

He flicked the side of Sam's head gently until he came too, and reached back inside his head. It was much easier when humans were awake to distort their memories; when asleep the subconscious was far too active in dreaming for him to be really effective.

The memories of the shower were still there, the sudden moment when he'd figured out that Dean was a vampire, the little moments the night before when Dean had gotten cold, and fight, the evidence still fresh on Dean's skin. He erased them all, taking bits of last night and cutting them into the shower, making everything seem normal.

Dean covered Sam with the cleanest of the blankets and settled down in a nearby chair to wait for Sam to wake up.

"Bye Dean!" came Sam's cheery response, and Dean waved and drove off, feeling as guilty as he had in hundreds of years.

Sam had found out and what had he done? He'd decided to erase it from Sam's mind. Erase how he'd found out about Dean, made him forget being angry, made him think they'd had generic boring sex in the shower.

He still felt dirty.

At least he hadn't bitten Sam though, hadn't made it worse. He tried to tell himself that it was something, that his control meant something, but it didn't. At the end of the day he'd taken away Sam's choices and memories. He couldn't see how anything could turn out well from this.

Dean parked the impala at a new hotel, one quite a bit fancier than the last and Coerced the maid upstairs into letting him into a suite.

Dean got into the shower and turned it on cold. It wasn't at all odd to take a shower. Not odd at all.

And if a few salty tears joined the water, well, who would notice anyway?

**End Chapter**


	7. Chapter 7: Changing Rooms

**Chapter 7: Changing Rooms**

Almost a week passed in the town, with no leads. Sam skipped out of research more often than not to go and see Dean. Sometimes they went back to Dean's motel for sex, hard and rough or soft and fun. Other times they went on what Sam could only call dates, like going to the park and throwing bread to the ducks (with the inevitable comment on male penguins), or going down to a bar or little cafe and playing cards or pool.

Sam snuck out of the motel room quietly, careful not to wake his father. He was going to see Dean tonight. Going to fuck him until he screamed, going to catch his lips between his teeth, going to ride him till he was sore and aching for hours afterwards. It was funny how Dean always liked playing bondage games and rough sex (though he was good at the light vanilla stuff as well), but he never let Sam bite him, or bit Sam himself. Sam put it down to an odd quirk though; after all who cared if Dean didn't like biting if he was perfect in every other way?

He was half ways hard by the time he'd gotten to the bus stop and pulled his hood up before stepping onto the bus. It took less than five minutes for the bus to get downtown, but it felt like forever.

Sam stepped off the bus, ignoring the two girls who giggled as he passed and walked for a block or so before he saw the little cake shop Dean had described to him. Dean seemed to understand that Sam wasn't interested in bringing him back to meet his father and company and didn't press the issue thankfully. He was still under the impression that Sam was doing some sort of father-son family business thing, something that required a lot of travel, though Sam was starting to suspect Dean knew more than he was letting on.

He was constantly making little jibes and hints, wearing on Sam's nerves at time with the questions. Sam was having trouble keeping the lies straight. So far, he'd told Dean his father did some sort of housing work and pest control thing that had something to do with the government job that his grandfather had. None of which made any sense; nepotism was not supposed to run the minor offices of the American government, only the larger positions.

Lost in thought, Sam passed by the cake shop and Dean in the Impala waiting for him.

Dean got out of the Impala and shot a glance at the idiot teenaged girl following Sammy, and reached out to flick off the right switch inside her head. The girl spun abruptly on her heel and marched away purposefully. She was probably yet another of Sam's innumerous cousins, or maybe just an idiot teenaged girl playing hooky.

He snuck up behind Sam, falling in step with him and waiting until Sam noticed he was being followed.

"Not in the mood for cake?" Dean asked and Sam turned falling into a stance, glare-ready.

"You have GOT to stop doing that Dean," he chided, relaxing.

"Sneaking up on you Sam?" Dean asked. "Never. It's WAY too much fun. Besides, how will you and your father keep the terrorists away if you don't know when someone's following you?" he asked innocently.

"I, uh," Sam sputtered. "It's not just my job, I'm still training!" he protested. Like Dean hadn't heard that a hundred times before; most of the time just before the novices screwed up so badly they ended up dead.

"Uh huh," he replied. "Once again, not in the mood for eating too much cake coupled with dirty innuendo until we get kicked out?"

Sam shook his head. "If you feel like i-" and then ducked sideways, pulling Dean after him in through the door of a department store.

Dean let the human drag him down the rows of clothing and watched him pull a few random hideous blue shirts off of a rack.

"Just felt the sudden need to go clothes shopping?" he asked. They HAD already eaten cake after all; maybe it was time to have fun somewhere else.

"No," Sam replied tersely, ducking down below the rows of clothing. "Hiding."

"Okay," Dean replied somewhat lost. "If you're trying to hide from me you shouldn't be dragging me along you know, kind of ruins the surprise,"

Sam looked up from where he was hunched down. "It's my grandfather."

He peaked sideways for a second. "And Andrew."

"Neither of them, you know, KNOW."

Dean restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Considering how paranoid Sammy was about the entire thing he was surprised Sam's father knew. Hell, half the time he was surprised Sammy had figured it out.

"Here, come on," Sam said, and dashed past one of the desk clerks looking at a magazine into an empty changing room.

Dean stood up straight and looked over the rack of shirts at the bald man pawing at jeans and talking to the teenager beside him. He was a young man, maybe a year or so older than Sammy, but shorter with lighter coloring and a sharp, hooked nose.

"They're not looking for you," he said finally, hands in pockets.

"Dean!" Sam hissed, "Come on!" and motioned with his hand, jerked back behind he door when the clerk looked up at the clock.

Dean smirked and strolled past the clerk without a second glance into the changing room.

Sam had no idea how Dean was so sneaky; he'd expect a guy like Dean to the center of everyone's attention, and yet half the time not a single person glanced at him.

"So..." Dean trailed off as Sam yanked him inside and shut the door. "Are we...?"

Sam ignored him to peak over the top of the door and then ducked down again. He noticed that his shoes were visible from the bottom and took them off, as though expecting someone to recognize him from his shoes.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed as Dean shoved him into the little stall. "This is a department store!"

"And this is a changing room." Dean replied. "And you're trying something on."

"What if I don't want to be top?" Sam asked, challenging. In reality Sam had no idea how to be bottom; he'd never gotten a chance to try it, and wasn't entirely sure department store sex was his idea of a first time.

"Hm," Dean pondered for a second, play-acting. "Then I'll just have to convince you,"

With that Dean leaned up to catch Sam's lips with his own, his hands running up Sam's shirt to attach one hand to his nipple.

Suddenly he pulled away, and ran his hands around Sam's shoulder's, walking around behind him.

"But sir," he said in a falsely breathy voice, "It's just come up,"

Sam's shoulders shook with laughter and turned so he could clasp a hand around Dean's mouth. Dean jerked his head up until he was free, turned Sam around again and continued.

"New from the package, it's perfectly designed to fit, yet oh so soft,"

"Dean," Sam whined, "Someone will hear-" Sam broke off with a whine as Dean's mouth clamped onto his earlobe and sucked, using his teeth to tease the surface. Looked like Dean had found his sweet spot.

"Still not interested?" Dean murmured against Sam's ear, and Sam moaned in response.

"I'll take that a no," Dean said, breathing lightly against Sam's ear, flicking his tongue into the scalloped edges. "Limited time offer Sammy," he said again, unable to resist one more bit of banter.

Sam moved away from Dean, one hand on his chest and turned to face him, his pupils dilated and face flushed.

"I'll buy," he replied. "Just be quiet."

Dean smirked, "Since when am I the loud one Sammy-boy?" he asked, latching back onto Sam's earlobe to suck.

Sam's hands encircled his waist and started pulling at his belt hooks. Dean moved from his earlobe down to his clavicle and neck, rubbing his nose along the silky-smooth tanned skin. Even if he were just a normal human he'd still be gorgeous enough not to just drain.

Sam finally gave a frustrated growl and pulled at Dean's jeans, a few stitches ripping out of the belt-loops.

"Why do you ALWAYS have to wear a belt Dean?" he half sighed and Dean chuckled, stepping back to flip open the buckle.

"Simple enough Sammy," he said, and moved a hand up underneath Sam's shirt. "Come on now, one for one," He said and Sam lifted his arms up to allow Dean to pull the worn shirt off.

His father really should be able to pay for better than the trash Sam was wearing, Dean thought while Sam's hands roved around his body. Half the stuff he wore was rotting and all of it was second (or third or fourth) hand clothing. Maybe they should go shopping afterward. Dean made a mental note to mess up Sammy's clothes as much as possible; the more messed up they got, the more excuse he'd have to buy him new ones.

Dean caught Sam's mouth with his and ran his tongue along Sam's gums before pulling his lower lip forward to suck on. Sam ran his nails along Dean's sides and caught one nipple between his nails to tweak it, causing Dean to break off with a low moan.

"Shh, they'll hear us," Sam whispered, glee in his voice at making Dean moan.

"You shush," Dean huffed, and used Sam's belt loops to pull their hips together. "I bet I can make you scream first," he whispered, and ground upwards against Sam.

"Mhm," came the reply.

"What do I get if I win?" he asked, and Dean chuckled and pushed Sam back to unzip his jeans. He used both hands to shove the jeans and boxers down and trailed his tongue slowly down Sam's chest, settling down onto his knees.

"What do you not get if you win?" he asked sarcastically, and flicked his tongue against the mushroom tip of Sam's half-hard cock.

Sam's body shook in suppressed laughter or lust; Dean didn't know. Or care particularly.

He twirled his tongue around Sam's dick, running his lower teeth lightly behind it, and the wall shook as Sam fell back against the wall.

Dean broke off to look at up at Sam. "Told you you'd lose," he said.

"Haven't screamed," was the reply.

"Yet." Dean replied and engulfed Sam's cock inside his mouth, varying pressure as he deep-throated it.

Sam's hips bucked up and Dean reached up to steady him against the wall, moving back to kiss his inner thigh, moving his tongue along it until he reached the base of Sam's dick.

He sucked the spot just above it, and then moved back, trailing his tongue along the scar from the circumcision.

Sam's heart rate was speeding up; Dean could tell he was close to coming and he decided to torture him some more, nosing along the other thigh before latching his teeth onto the skin above the vein –

Dean broke off, panting, and felt Sam looking down at him in confusion.

"You are SO not going to make me blueball it," he said, thinking it was part of the game, and Dean blinked hard to remove the thoughts he'd had of biting Sam from his head.

Not going to happen Dean, he thought silently, latching back onto Sam's engorged member, sucking it down like a pro until only limp flesh was left in his mouth, and Sam had slid down onto the floor beside him, panting and sweaty.

"I didn't scream," came Sam's voice, calling Dean back from his guilty thoughts. His face was still flushed, his lips parted and red as he panted. "Still want cake Dean?" he asked. "Or do I taste better?"

Dean grinned up at him. He hadn't noticed. That was good. Wiping his memories once had been bad enough, twice would be even worse. Besides, it wasn't as if being Coerced multiple times didn't cause damage; there was a reason the Renfield guy in Dracula was mad – too much Coercion.

"Still want cake Sammy," he replied, thinking of something else entirely.

**End Chapter**


	8. Chapter 8: Selling Secrets

**Chapter 8: Selling Secrets**

Bethany raced back to where Monica was standing by the old broken phone booth and squealed. "They TOTALLY had sex!" she squealed and giggling madly.

"It was like, SOOO hot!"

Monica scowled. "Shut up already Beth. I would've been there; the stupid vampire Coerced me,"

"Uh huh, and Vlad'll be SOO happy about that."

"Just shut up and tell me what happened."

"Okay, so, like, the human guy, the one with long hair-" Bethany started.

"Sam," Monica interjected.

"Okay, so Sam kept on looking at the old bald guy and some teenager, the guy with a huge nose, like Snape only, like, blond and ducking."

"And Dean? Did he know them?" Monica asked.

Bethany twiddled a piece of brown hair around her finger and brought it to her mouth to nibble on; one of her more annoying habits. "No, well, he looked at them, but like, he didn't seem to care. He said something about a three-some though.. which doesn't make sense because there were four of them."

"Okay, so then, Sam went and hid n one of the changing rooms, which makes sense because Ashley, - you know, Ashley who TA'd math last year?-"

"Get on with it Bethany!" Monica said sharply.

"Fine," Bethany stated, her hands up apologetically. "So, like, Sam went and hid, and then Dean followed them, and Dean, like, totally blew Sam in the changing room."

Monica seethed internally. There HAD to be more information on Dean. Vlad had had her tailing him for over a week now, and so far all she'd learned was he was a vampire, really hot, and powerful enough to Coerce his prey into forgetting he'd bitten them so he didn't have to kill them.

If she weren't already with Vlad and had his promise to turn her, she'd have tried hooking up with Dean. Plus Dean hadn't bothered hooking up with anyone but Sam in days, minus what he did as a vampire to get prey.

"I would've stayed longer, but Ashley still thinks I'm after Brad, after what happened at last game under the bleachers, so she, like, totally kicked me out. Like, why would I hang around where SHE works if I was after him? Unless he visits her." Bethany finished.

"Right," Monica said, having tuned out Bethany's useless rant. The only thing she had to give Vlad was more information on Dean's sex life with Sam. Useless. She couldn't see the appeal herself. Sure Sam was good-looking, but he seemed to be just some random drifter loser, living with his dad and grandfather? He was like, 20 or something, living with his relatives was kind of lame. Their family business, which she'd overheard Sam telling Dean about previously, didn't seem to be much beyond traveling around and something to do with cars or maybe housing? None of it made any sense.

"Hmm," Monica thought. "Follow the young man" she told Bethany. "See if you can get anything out of him. We need more information."

"I don't see why I have to follow them," Bethany stated, planting her hands on her hips. "It's not like you've been Coerced to not follow THEM,"

"Yeah, but Bethany you're not dating a vampire." Monica said, smiling patronizingly at her so-called friend. "Unlike me, you don't have a guarantee to get changed; they may decide to just cut you loose if you don't work for them."

Bethany frowned in confusion. "But, like, I've done stuff!" she almost-cried, her voice going all high-pitched at the end. "I've helped!"

"Yes, but think Vald would be so much HAPPIER if you did more." Monica said, putting one hand on Bethany comfortingly. "And there's a LOT of cute vampires in his nest; the more involved you are, the more likely they are to hook up with you. It's not like you aren't pretty,"

"OMG! You're like, so right!" Bethany said, flipping her hair back for an imaginary vampire. "I will like, totally pump him for info.!"

Monica waited until Bethany had gone across the street and walked past the young man a few times, stopping to buy an icecream cone, and then pretending to window shop while following them. The girl might be an idiot, but she was quite good at spying, and so made a good addition to the group.

Monica had been obsessed with vampires for as long as she could remember. First it was books, like Dracula, the illustrated children's version, then onto Anne Rice's work, and Amelia Atwater-Rhodes. Then movies had started coming out and she'd only gotten more obsessed. After all, what was cooler than living forever as a super-hot superhero who didn't have to answer to everyone? Nothing, that's what.

So when she'd started going goth and hanging out around a certain type of bar her parents hadn't really noticed. After all, other girls were obsessed with unicorns and wanted expensive horse-riding lessons and the wardrobes to boot; goth by comparison was cheap.

In her first year at high school she'd met Bethany and Lauren. Lauren was one of those emo-goth poetry types, always moaning on about things. Half the time Monica called her "Louis' after Anne Rice's character for her incessant moaning. Bethany on the other hand was practically a cheerleader; all happy and cheerful and bouncy, like a little puppy only not half as smart (or cute); she'd really only joined them because no one else wanted to hang out with her.

Half-way through high school she'd met Vlad in the park one night while playing as bait. She and her friends had taken to hanging around parks at night, their throats carefully uncovered to try and attract vampires. That night Lauren had skipped out to write more of her awful emo-poetry for English class and Bethany had spent the night on the phone painting her toe-nails six different colors.

When Vlad had started coming onto Monica she'd acted dumb, playing it up before he started moving in to bite her. Then she'd stabbed him with her wooden stake, stopping him from biting her then, and gave him a proposal. She wanted to be changed, and in exchange, well, she'd give him whatever he wanted. She hadn't known what else to give a vampire; blood would be a stupid idea, and she was O+, nothing special.

For the first few months it had been nothing special or important, just trailing some of the university students from late labs to get Vlad more techies, and just generic stuff. Then she'd brought Bethany and Lauren in at Vlad's command, using them to get more done, since after Vlad changed her, she wouldn't be able to walk around during daytime, which would make human friends very useful.

Monica got onto the bus headed for the outside of town and pulled up her hood. If there was one thing she hated it was getting around in the tiny town.

"So Sam Winchester's family doesn't know he's out of the closet?" Vlad said, his back turned to Monica, a faint trace of a sneer. "And he and Sam are having more and more sex?"

"Yes," Monica said. Like she had told Bethany, the information wasn't very useful, but it was better than nothing. She was tempted to start babbling about Ashley and Bethany and the blond guy in a few minutes, just to fill the silence.

"Useless!" Vlad said, slamming a palm down on the table. Monica winced as it cracked, the false dark veneer showing a bland sanded wood beneath. "Get out."

"Get out and don't come back until you've found something useful!" He hissed at her. "Dean's prancing around some idiot human? Dean's staying at bad motels? Useless!"

Monica ducked her head down and walked quickly out of the room, her hair flashing under the lights.

Vlad slumped down into his chair, a modern computer one with wheels that rotated. He picked idly at the veneer. Dean was messing around with some human; not very useful at all. The fact that he hadn't BITTEN his darling Sammy was something, but not very much...

He frowned and brought one of his nails up to chew on. Though there was his new schedule to watch; Dean HAD begun turning up at certain places at certain times, always around Sam's schedule. The human's father seemed intent on keeping him on as short a leash as possible. Vlad knew Dean was liable to cruise by a parking lot near Sam's motel room in a few hours; he usually picked Sam up away from the rest of his family. That was useful; less humans around meant less witnesses. And there was the matter of what his family was doing in the town to begin with; so far neither Monica nor any of her friends, nor any of his other spies had discovered anything more than credit card fraud.

Vlad slid open one of the lower drawers of the desk to reveal a littel keyboard and pad, not unlike the ones seen on cell phones. Drawing a nail across his wrist he bled a few drops onto the screen and the machine began whizzing away, its screen turning a smokey blue. "Report Number 57 on Dean Forrester; movements seem confined to certain places,"

Vlad continued to list the Dean's actions for the past few days off into the general computer ending with; "attachment to human growing."

He might now be able to use it, but someone else might, and there were rules (loosely enforced perhaps, but rules nonetheless) around changing humans into vampires. Plus there were rumors about Dean and his sire's relationship; unlike other vampires Dean didn't have a nest, didn't even hang out around other vampires that often, and his sire HAD been rumored to be annoyed with him, either for not coming to heel, or for his mercenary work.

There was an added bonus to Dean getting into trouble with other vampires as well; if Dean was attacked and killed in the town, any disturbances, all the stuff his fledglings had done, Monica and her friends, and the 'gators from a few weeks back, would go down as being DEAN'S fault, not Vlad's, and Vlad would get a feather in his cap for 'informing the authorities before Dean got out of control.'

He sat down and spun back and forth idly in his chair, waiting to see if the information would get any replies. A few minutes later the screen pinged and turned a burnt orange color. Smiling as he read the reply Vlad clicked the "yes" button and watched the screen process the request. Not even a full night's work, and not that good of information and he was up 10 grand already. Vlad leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head, careful to avoid the wig, smiling a decidedly unpleasant smile.

**End Chapter**


	9. Chapter 9: ChickFlick Moments

**Chapter 9: Chick-Flick Moments**

Notes: Finally, Dean gets to top, and they have a little chick-flick moment. I just HAD to make them be all soppy before someone got hurt.

Dean stopped the Impala just inside the broken down lines of the empty lot near Sam's motel. He liked to cruise by randomly, see if Sammy was about and pick him up for fun, usually around this dusk. The place was like most of their meeting spots; halfway a place where no one would go, and halfway within normal ranges, so they could easily pretend they'd just bumped into each other by accident if someone did come across them.

A knock on the side door and then Sam was sliding into the Impala, all fresh and clean from the shower. Dean could smell the slight hint of shampoo coming off his damp hair and moved in to kiss him, his still-unshaven cheek brushing against Sam's.

"You need to learn to shave Dean," Sam mumbled as Dean moved down along his jaw line, planting little butterfly kisses as he worked his way towards Sam's ear. "I'm getting beard-burn off of you,"

"Mhm," Dean mumbled, knowing he was stuck with his stubble. Even if he did shave it off, it would grow back in a matter of hours, one of the down sides to being a vampire. "It's stubble, not a beard." he replied. "Maybe someday you'll grow one, when you're old enough"

"I'm NOT a kid Dean," Sam replied, pulling back and looking down at him, his hazel eyes fierce.

"I know," Dean said, tugging at the fly of Sam's jeans suggestively.

"Stop that," Sam's hand met Dean's and there was a brief fumble not unlike footsie, ending with Sam's fingers laced with Dean's.

"Then what DO you want to do Sam?" Dean sighed. Generally they saved their actual conversations for daylight hours; once the sun went down, other things came up.

Sam's head ducked down and he shook his head.

Dean sighed. "Not a mind reader here Sammy; gotta tell me what you want." Dean did not actually know what Sam wanted; since the little mind-wipe he'd given Sam, he'd stayed firmly out of the Hunter's mind.

"I uh, don't want to, uh, oh nevermind!" Sam snapped and grabbed the door handle, ready to leave.

"You don't want to top." Dean filled in for him, reaching out a hand to grab the human's wrist. "Okay then."

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Ever bottomed before?" Dean asked and Sam's head gave a noncommittal jerk in reply, his bangs shaken so they hide his eyes.

"Wonderful," Dean mumbled under his breath, quiet enough that Sam wouldn't catch it. Dean liked topping just as much as he liked bottoming, but working with a virgin? It wasn't something he'd done in a LONG time, and from experience was rarely fun for either side.

"First, it starts with us getting rid of your pants," Dean said, unlocking his fingers from Sam's to unzip with jeans and begin working at getting Sam out of his pants.

"Dean-" Sam started and broke off in a moan as Dean's finger circled the edge of his hole, brushing so lightly he couldn't be sure it was even there.

"Don't worry about it Sammy, just relax," Dean whispered into his ear, his tongue working along the edges.

Dean reached one finger into Sam's hole and arched it, his nail scraping lightly against the inner walls. Sam moaned and leaned down to catch Dean's lower lip between his teeth.

"Dean" Sam moaned as Dean moved his finger ever so slowly inside him.

"Fuck me," he whined and thrust his hips upwards and forward, only to feel Dean move his finger back out of him.

"You sure Sammy?" Dean asked, his head coming up, his green eyes locking onto Sam's hazel. "I'm not hurting you am I?"

Sam moaned in response, a note of anxiety detectable.

"Never bottomed before, huh?" Dean asked, half joking, "It's just as much fun as topping, promise."

Sam's eyes opened and he shot a half-glare at the vampire. "Shut up Dean,"

He smirked in response and reached his unoccupied hand into the glove box to pull out a small bottle of lube.

Sam's hands had found his jeans and yanked them halfway off, revealing his half hard member and Dean squirted the contents over it, Sam's hand moving along to slick up the length.

"Cherry scented Dean?" Sam asked breaking off the kiss. "Seriously?" his voice cracked at the last note of the word.

Dean smirked and his mouth found Sam's, his tongue delving into Sam's mouth; he tasted of salt and something sweet and light, like the little candies they fed small children.

He moved forward, so Sam was almost sitting in his lap and grimaced, breaking the kiss as the stick got in the way.

"Maybe we should..?" Sam asked, gesturing to the back seat and Dean moved back so Sam could climb over the seat into the back, lying down flat on his back, his legs apart. Dean took a moment to savor the picture and pulled his jeans off completely, discarding them in the front seat to climb on top of Sam.

Dean slid a hand between Sam's legs to reach one finger up inside him. Sam's hand reached up Dean's shirt to tweak one of his nipples and Dean pulled the finger back out slowly.

"Dean!" Sam growled, and moved his head down to mouth at the side of Dean's neck.

Dean moved the finger back inside, followed by another one. Sam's hips buckled up and his loud moan was muffled by Dean's mouth.

"Okay there?" Dean asked, panting as he moved the fingers deeper inside Sam.

Sam moaned, his eyes opening to reveal feverishly bright hazel eyes.

Taking it as a yes, Dean moved the finger in and out a few times, Sam's hands moving up to grip his triceps.

Dean removed both fingers, and Sam gasped, and moved upwards, following them.

He waited a moment longer for Sam's breathing to even out until Sam flicked his sweaty bangs out of his eyes and reach a hand down to grasp Dean's cock, lifting his legs up around Dean to pull him closer.

Dean pulled back, re-arranging himself around Sam.

One hand on Sam's hip, Dean pressed forward in one smooth movement, moving inch by inch inside him.

Sam moaned, his head thrown back and his nails digging into Dean's forearms.

The moan turned louder as Dean reached further inside, until it reached a little point and Sam screamed, his body bucking upwards against Dean's.

Dean moved out and felt Sam's nails dig in further. "Back in," Sam said firmly, his pupils blown wild with lust.

Dean smirked and moved back in, this time sealing his mouth to Sam's to muffle the noise when he hit Sam's sweet spot.

He moved in and out several times before reaching a hand around Sam's ignored member, and began jacking out of rhythm with his thrusts.

He felt Sam's body tighten before his did and the white spurt of fluid across Sam's chest prompted his own, still inside Sam.

His head rested on Sam's chest for a moment, both panting hard.

"Not bad for a first time huh?" He asked, Sam's body relaxing around his, his legs falling back down onto the seat.

"Mhm," Sam replied, his breathing still ragged, and his hair plastered to his now sweaty body. "Awesome Dean just, awesome."

Sam's hands moved from Dean's triceps to rest in the small of his back, one hand clasped around the other.

"Love you Dean," came the little whisper beside his ear, so quiet Dean wasn't sure a human would be able to hear it.

"Love you too Sammy,"

**End Chapter**

Afternote: As for why they are having sex in a parking lot in Dean's car, I've gotten bored of writing them having sex in bed, so I have to find new things.


	10. Chapter 10: Sam in The Library

**Chapter 10: Sam in The Library**

Two men sat at a table in a library, the table covered in books with titles like 'A Guide to Necromancy,' 'Chaucer's Guide to Ghosts,' and 'Blood Sucking Fiends: A History.'

Nearby, a young man sat at a computer, his finger's diligently pecking away at keys, looking for more information.

It had been about a week and a half in the sleepy little town, and they had yet to find anything worth hunting. There had been the rumors of giant alligators (false), the usual ghost stories revolving around a few of the older houses, and now they were on to vampires, given that the town had more than a few gothic residents. Sam himself had seen at least two different little girls when he'd gone to meet Dean, and Andrew had told him about how his grandfather had chewed one little goth-girl out for 'showing too much skin.'

Nothing worth mentioning yet, though they were insisting they'd find something soon. If not, they'd leave and find the next job. Sam's grandmother Deana had called the day before to tell them about a rumor of zombies just a few towns over. They'd never found any zombies before, but who knew? Sam's father certainly hadn't grown up knowing about the things that went bump in the night; for that matter Sam hadn't either.

He'd grown up thinking his father, grandfather, and various cousins did some sort of government work that required them to rove all over America. He'd grown up living with his grandmother and (in the early years at least) with his mother, until she'd died. His father had told him originally that his mother had died 'in an accident,' not explaning anything beyond that, when he was just four and his mother had gone along for one of his father's 'business trips.'

Sam had grown up thinking it was normal to put a pinch of salt in your mouth before you went to bed; normal to learn how to load a gun before you learned to ride a bike; normal to learn little Latin chants 'just in case.' They'd never told him what 'just in case' was for, and he'd started ignoring it, treating it like any teenager treated their parents' advice.

Then he'd gone out for a night on the town with some friends, ignoring his curfew to sneak into a supposedly haunted house with his girlfriend Jessica Moore and a few other acquaintances from school. Jessica had been pretty and smart, a blond with long legs and a great smile, she'd been his first ANYTHING.

They'd settled down in the front room of the house to play 'spin the bottle,' and then things had started happening. At first it was simple stuff, a whistle of the wind, then stranger stuff, like giggles that definitely weren't coming from them.

A girl had appeared then, one they'd thought had come through a back door in the kitchen, a girl with long black hair and green eyes and a devilishly red mouth. She'd declined spinning the bottle herself seeming utterly normal until Jeremy had spun the bottle to point at her.

She'd played coy at first, fluttered her eyelashes and tilting her head to the side. Sam remembered she'd said something before Jeremy had kissed her, something about it being special, asked if he really wanted it or something, and then kissed him.

Just a kiss right? Nothing to get worried about.

Wrong.

It had been normal for a few seconds, before getting beyond the normal PG kiss, her tongue entwined with his, and then her lipstick had started bleeding into him. Not like how lipstick smudged and got all over someone's face, but bled into him like paint going down a drain, little swirls of bright red bleeding across his kiss until he fell back, gasping.

No one knew what had happened to Jeremy next; they'd all been looking at her, her face a ghastly mask, the grinning face of a dead girl; the half-rotted grotesque facade behind her smile.

Sam had leapt to his feet then, his hand clutching Jessica's and ran to the door with the rest, and had wrenched it open before SOMETHING slammed it shut. The house had been silent then, Jeremy twitching on the floor, the group all clustered together by the door. Jessica had been the one to let go of Sam's hand, and go to see Jeremy, or rather, what was left of him.

The red lipstick had bled all over his face and melted it back somehow until he'd looked burned. As soon as Jessica's hand touched him, she'd burst into flames, her mouth opening in a piercing scream that Sam still shuddered to remember. The girl had re-appeared then, altering between a smiling, laughing girl, and a stumbling, bloody, burned figure, a mockery of Jessica, and the rest of the group had fled, spread out around the house. Sam had stayed, paralyzed at the door, as she came closer, until she'd stopped, just before touching him. She'd scowled and then vanished, no doubt to chase the rest of the teenagers.

Two of Sam's friends had died that night, and the only reason he hadn't been implicated was his grandmother. Tired of waiting for him to call or come home, she'd traced his cell phone (another little family secret he hadn't known about) gotten into the old truck with a shotgun in hand and gone out to rescue him.

Deana Campbell had turned up in old gumboots and a flowery nightgown over a pair of hastily-thrown-on jeans at the door. Sam had heard a few gun-shots before she'd appeared from the same entrance the ghost had used with Michael and Amber in tow, to find him huddled on the floor. She'd barely given a cursory glance to Jessica's burnt body on the floor, before stepping over it to pull Sam up.

She'd yelled at him to get a hold of himself and had shot the front door lock off, dragging the three of them out of the building.

After she'd driven his friends home (along with a few strong words to their parents), she'd taken Sam home to give him the talking-to of his life.

It hadn't just been scolding, but an explanation. She'd told him about the family business, told him about what the girl in the house had been. She hadn't told him about his mother, leaving that up to John (along with more yelling). She'd told him about why the ghost hadn't gotten to him; it was the little bracelet he'd been wearing, something he'd taken from his grandfather's study, made of straight steel with little runes inscribed along it. Something he'd thought was 'cool.'

John Winchester had arrived home a week later to yell at Sam, telling him how dangerous it was, and how stupid he'd been. Then he'd begun getting to work on taking down the ghost inside the house.

Sam's father had made him do the research on the job; made him come along for the job to put down the ghost. That was how he'd found out about the girl. She'd been a 'troubled kid', one who'd gotten pregnant at 15 or so back in the 50's. She'd been sent to live with her aunt and uncle in what was then the country to have the baby, and then to go back home with tales of a 'new cousin.' Instead, she'd lost the baby in transition, and then been sexually abused by her uncle until she threatened to tell. Frightened, he'd thrown her into an incinerator where she'd half burned to death before her aunt came down to let her out. Then came more horrors. The girl had stumbled out, half-dead and grabbed onto her aunt, who'd naturally pushed the girl away so she stumbled into the wall. She must have screamed or something then, altering her uncle, who'd appeared to shoot her, before taking his wife to the hospital. There he'd fed the authorities some cock-and-bull story about the girl burning some garbage before accidentally falling in, and then his wife discovering the girl by accident. He'd told them that she'd been half dead by the time he'd shot her, that he'd been frightened for his wife (who was then in the burn ward), and he'd gotten off.

After all, who cared about some random dumb dead pregnant girl? Especially in a small town where no one had even known she was staying with her aunt and uncle.

From then on Sam's life had changed. His father would make a point of pulling him out of school for certain hunting trips, where he'd be stuck in some poky motel for weeks on end before he'd have to help them put down some monster.

He'd finished high school in a daze, barely paying attention to things, not bothering with half his school work - who could when they were routinely pulled out to kill things? He'd tried going to collage for a few years afterwards, but had eventually dropped out to continue hunting, sick of fighting with his father about 'doing his duty' and listening to his cousins brag about their conquests, looking at him as the soft one. As if there was some pride in killing creatures that couldn't always control themselves.

Sam turned back to the computer with a sigh. There was no point reminiscing about the past. It was far more important to work on the present, and more importantly, on the future. Especially a future that involved staying in the town for even just a few weeks longer.

If he left, it'd be a cat's chance in hell that he'd EVER see Dean again.

Normally Sam was okay with that. He wasn't like Andrew or one of his other cousins, Jonah, playing various girls (or boys in Sam's case) in different towns just to leave after a few nights of fun. Sam wasn't the sort of guy to play around with people, there had to be something more. A random fuck in a random city was fine, occasionally, but not something he did on a regular business.

And then there was Dean, someone who'd started out as someone he was talking to half in gratitude for saving his ass, half in hopes of a random fuck. But what had started out as simple had turned into so much more.

The way Dean's eyes flashed bright green when he smiled, his long legs, the way he always played protective of Sam, despite being bigger. The way he'd let Sam wrap around him at night like he was a teddy bear. How he'd call Sam "Sammy," like he was a little kid as a way of endearment.

Then there had been last night, when Sam had bottomed for the first time, and Dean had said he loved him, so quietly he'd almost missed it. Sam had gone home grinning and spent the evening re-living every moment of it and planning for next time.

But today he was starting to realize there might not BE a next time; a few more days, a week at most, and he'd be gone.

He'd been toying with the idea of asking Dean to come with them; he was a drifter after all, and it wasn't like he'd talked about any plans. But then there was the problem of his father and grandfather, and Dean getting suspicious about what Sam was doing, and it all collapsed.

Sam had even toyed with the idea of TELLING Dean flat out, but from his cousin's experiences with that sort of thing, he knew it wasn't something that EVER went well. There was still a psych ward out in Illinois looking for his cousin Mariah.

Sam sighed and clicked onto the next. Unless there was a job here, he'd be gone soon. Having a job, dealing with one, would also be a good way to convince Dean of the facts, if he was around when it went down. It wasn't likely, but it was possible, and withr tangible proof... Sam grinned, a half-formed plan beginning to unfurl as he began to read.

**End Chapter**

Afternotes: In some lore, putting baked bread or salt in a baby's mouth prevented faeries from stealing it away/revealed a changeling.


	11. Chapter 11: Cheated and Betrayed

**Chapter 11:** **Dean Gets Beaten Up: Cheated and Betrayed**

Notes: Thanks to BeautifulAgony's fic "Never Without You" for the beautiful descriptions of Dean smelling blood./being VERY VERY hungry.

Dean strolled along the riverside just as dusk was falling, smirking as he thought of the fight with he alligators almost a month ago. He'd been well-paid to do the job, and had fun doing it, although pulling some of the teeth out later hadn't been fun. While he healed from almost any hurt faster than humans did, having things stuck in him was annoying. Sure they didn't do that much damage unless they hit something vital, but it was like having a pebble in your shoe; annoying as hell.

He wasn't planning on meeting Sam tonight for once, since Sam had been insistent on doing his job. Dean had tailed him to the library and watched him sit at one of the computers for hours, typing away madly while his father sat in the back-ground, reading a dirty magazine behind a book about Necromancy, and looking up periodically to glare at his son. You'd think he'd be happy with a son as smart as Sammy, especially one willing to put up with his father's crap.

But no, just because his son liked screwing men somehow made him worthless. Dean was incredibly tempted to punch John Winchester's face in at times. That or change his mind, make him forget about hating his son. But changing his mind for him, as much as Dean would like to, would be very bad; after all, what was the difference between him and some of the worst of the vampires then?

Dean shook his head again and continued walking. He couldn't change the way any of the other vampires acted; the only thing he could really do was assassinate the worst of them, and work around the rest.

The thing to work on now was Sam. Dean knew he was running on a time-line; Sam and his father would be leaving soon, if they didn't find anything. Unless Dean did something about that. He squirmed at the thought of betraying Vlad's nest to Sam and his father though. Plus, it'd only buy him a few more days, if that, and it wasn't like it would make Sam anymore likely to listen to him when he told him about his own vampirism.

Dean continued walking, lost in thought.

Dark figures waited around a bend in the river. At the back of the expedition was Vlad, darkly majestic in a black suit, stake in hand. Having Vlad's little human servants track Dean for the day hadn't been easy; without his own little human pet to distract him, Vlad had been worried that Dean would notice and catch onto things. Luckily he hadn't, spending the day moping around and following his darling little Sammy around. What a useless waste of a day.

Now he was walking down by the river, apparently lost in thought. Vlad could practically smell the imbecilic, soppy thoughts reeking off of him. What next? Roses and singing? Pssht, a pathetic waste of time, especially for a vampire of Dean's status.

Vlad's lip twisted in scorn as he watched Dean begin his slow way along the sand. The client's followers had been sent down a day before to check the area out, plan where they'd attack Dean. Vlad had come along as a sign of good faith, so that if he was betraying them, the client's followers could make short work of him. As if he'd let himself get killed after only 50 years of immortality.

Hopefully they'd be able to deal with Dean before he noticed Vlad. Sure the client's little minions appeared dangerous, clad in dark clothes with enough weapons to stock a few army surplus stores, if army surplus stores carried weapons for killing vampires that was. But still Vlad couldn't help but feel his stomach sink at the thought of Dean fighting them; he'd taken down the alligators weeks before with nary a weapon, and he'd been rumored to have taken on worse and come out the better. There was a reason why he was one of the best paid assassins in the supernatural world; at least half to just to ensure the vampire didn't get annoyed and decide to get rid of his employers afterwards.

Vlad fell back as the first of the figures unsheathed his sword and leapt out to attack Dean, followed by his fellows. Vlad turned away from the carnage and breathed a sigh of relief, probably the first breath he'd taken in years as they tossed Dean's lifeless body into the river.

A body awoke a few hours later, tangled up among the pillars of an old dock. A young man sat nearby, smoking a cigarette, the smoke twisting away into the dark sky, like the reverse of a demon exorcised.

The body leapt from the river, faster than the eye could see, and with a strangled moan the man, a boy really, was down. The monster snarled and bit down, drinking until the old man gave a slight, involuntary sigh and collapsed, dead.

Dean fell back onto the sand, exhausted. The wounds on his body were beginning to heal, the color beginning to flood back into him, but more importantly was what was coming. He could hear the faint thump-thump of the hearts nearby, the little pitter-patter of footsteps returning. He was SO hungry he could practically smell them. The perfume of cheap, flowery shampoo, the piss-poor excuse for alcohol, still bottled, and the ever-so-sweet scent of youthful, FRESH blood.

He lay for a moment longer, waiting for them to come down.

He heard the girl's diaphragm compress before she gasped at the sight of the body, heard the little creek of the bones in the other' boy's hand shift before the beer dropped to the ground.

Worse, he felt himself leap and attack first. The girl came first, tasting like candy and eug, DIET PILLS, hardly worth a meal. He managed to make himself pull back when her heart started giving little skips, letting her fall down onto the sound to follow the boy into the woods near the river.

Barely a few steps away and Dean caught him, biting down savagely as he struggled until half-sated and pulling back. This was better; a little extra kick from the drugs, but thicker and richer than the girl's.

Dean let the boy fall down onto the floor and spared him a second glance and felt his heart clench. The boy had long, floppy hair, long enough to fall into his eyes, thankfully not a hazel like Sammy's, but still so young.

He leapt back from the bodies, only two dead for now, and fled through the woods, thinking as he ran. He had caught a slight whiff of Vlad on the wind, he couldn't go back to his next for food; drinking Vlad dry wasn't even an option, not with that much hired muscle around. Dean knew Vlad didn't have fledglings that strong, or friends among the shape-shifters like that. It had to be someone else.

Dean reached a pay phone and stepped into the booth, his clothes still half-wet from his run. He caught sight of his own eyes, a bright, almost glowing green in the window and closed them, unwilling to look at his own reflection. One person dead, tonight. Possibly more.

He opened his eyes to see his reflection, calm and collected as always, and then firmly turned to the phone, dialing 911.

"I've got an accident to report." he heard himself say, as though from far away. "Down by the river"...

There was a way to deal with this sort of accident, though it would take all night.

Dean sighed and hung up the phone, closing his eyes again, this time for a different reason, before locking onto a faint heart beat out of the street nearby. Six or seven people, maybe more, if he spread it out he wouldn't have to risk killing anyone else tonight.

Sam walked into the bar alone, a few hundred in his pocket, ready to play a game or so of poker. While he didn't need to the money for now, it was nice to have it just in case, and he could always use the practice.

Halfway to the table, he froze, seeing Dean sitting at the bar, bold as brass, a turned-on, hungry look in his eyes one Sam always loved seeing, knowing what sort of fun it meant.

But it wasn't directed at him.

Dean had some blond sitting almost in his lap, his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand lower. He was mouthing her neck almost lovingly, teasing the flesh between his teeth, biting like he NEVER did with Sam.

Sam's throat felt tight and he turned, bumping into a couple behind him, and several tables while he stumbled out of the bar into the alley. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he felt like he was going to pass out. Dean, DEAN was cheating on him. Dean, who had said he loved him, had decided to spend the night playing with some dumb blond. Sure they'd never had the exclusive talk, but after last night he'd thought...

His thoughts trailed off and he punched the brick wall, feeling his the skin on his knuckles tear and bruise.

"Not happy with the wall Sammy?"

There was Dean, his hands in his pockets, and his skin flushed. His lips were all puffed up and red.

"Not happy with YOU Dean," he snarled. "What the hell? I thought, I.. Never mind!"

"Clearly you don't care," he snapped, "Guess this isn't, guess this is just some FLING to you," Sam threw the words at Dean like a weapon, standing with his arms crossed defensively.

"Sammy," Dean began, and broke off, running his hand through his hair.

"Don't call me that. It's SAM." came the reply.

Every time, Dean thought. First the shower, then THIS, everything was getting screwed up.

End Chapter


	12. Chapter 12: Dean's Past

**Chapter 12: Dean's Past**

Dane trudged into the forest, the early morning snow seeping in through the soles of his worn boots. Even with the morning cold he was stuck with the job. The winter that year had been awful, and with the ban from the lord on cutting firewood from HIS forest, most people chose to go cold, or sleep together in piles for warmth. Dane of course had no choice but to sneak into the forest in the early morning; with his little sister Lucy ill no one would sleep anywhere near her, so Dane was stuck with stealing wood and hoping not to get caught.

His feet padded softly on the ground, and his breath misted into the air, making ghostly imprints in the air like smoke.

An axe swung in his hand, old and dependable, iron and ash wood. It had been his father's before he'd died, and now was Dane's.

Her skin was a dusky sort of rose, tanned skin, turned ashy with illness. The stench of sickness in the air, a sweet sort of sickness, of unwashed human and sweat and waste all over the bedclothes. Water was by the girl, in a pitcher on the floor, a thin layer of ice formed over the surface. Down her front was a dark stain from her most recent drink, and little crumbs from a recent meal.

Exactly what he'd been looking for.

She hissed when the light hit her, and he saw her bared teeth, the gums bloody and drawn back, giving her teeth the appearance of a predator, too long and sharp, like broken glass put in someone's mouth.

It was almost funny. Here he was, dressed impeccably, if somewhat somberly, in the gown of a nobleman, and yet if the idiot townspeople saw the tow together he knew she'd be the one burned as a witch, or a monster, or whatever term they decided matched her.

So silly for them to think it was a problem. Didn't they know the sweetest fair was the one you weren't supposed to have?

He bent closer and saw her eyes open, bloodshot and teary, eyelashes gummed together. She wouldn't have lasted the winter, whether he'd come or not.

There was no resistance when he knelt closer, wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer, his lips almost at her throat. A little gasp was all her got from her when he bit down, and her heart barely sped up at all, the sweet blood pumping steadily through her body into his, burning its way down his throat like a firebrand. There was a little aftertaste of sour, the little note of death; a reminder not to go too far and fall down with her.

He fell back, swaying on his knees, his arms still around her, close enough to sense her body cooling slowly. Sometimes he wondered why souls were put into such useless creatures as her; dead before they had more than a decade on the earth, what other use could they be put prey?

A soft footstep warned him of a watcher, and the whistle of metal and wood followed by man swung through the air.

The man - the vampire - spun at the sound, catching the handle in his hand and deftly snapped it, leaving only splinters of wood in the other man's hands.

Tall for a peasant, with dark hair, cut shorter than most, set off by green eyes as deep as a well, a startling thing in winter.

The man was yelling the vampire noted, silly little things, and moving closer. The handle from the man's hand dropped to the floor as he yelled, cracking into little splinters.

Closer, just a little closer, and the vampire left, his still-bloody jaws clamped onto the man's shoulder, teeth sinking in as easily as if it were the soft skin of his dead sister. The man's pulse sped up, and the salty taste of adrenaline rushed into the vampire's mouth.

The vampire pulled back to look down smugly at the man, his eyes a dull green, half asleep already. The man might be far less sweet than his sister, but much more satisfying to have bitten. A smirk on his face and the vampire was gone.

Dane awoke with a throbbing headache. The world seemed to swing around him, spinning, but not like when he'd been drunk in the village. Around him was the cottage, the air as cold as outside, where only the barest dregs of daylight showed. Dane pushed himself up to his knees, mentally taking inventory of what had happened.

He'd gone into the woods in the morning, gotten a good hall; he'd even found a badger out of its den for food. Then he'd come home, noticed the door open and then...

Pain.

He remembered a jolt to his arm, a sharp pain of splinters digging into his hand, and then a similar pain in his neck before things had dulled and he'd seemed to fall asleep. No, not asleep. It had been like falling down a deep well, with the rest of the world staying planted where it was, his senses just separating from him, and himself drifting away...

It had been so like being asleep he didn't know if it had really happened...

Dane shook his head, trying to clear the mist from it and stood, using the wall.

There, that was proof. The twinge in his hand, the splinters from his father's broken ax handle, the remnants of it lying in a corner of the cottage, a twisted, broken shade of what it had been.

Worse, behind him was Lucy's dead body. Even with the cold, he could smell it. The sickly-sweet stench of her sick body coupled with the tang of metallic blood in the air and with the putrid smell of dead body.

And he'd tried so hard to keep her alive.

Dane remembered when his father had brought home his new wife, when he was just 10. Soon after the new baby had followed, a pink, sickly little thing, and then his stepmother had died the following winter, leaving him and his father with baby Lucy.

His father hadn't known what to do with her, so the task had fallen to Dane. He'd played with Lucy, taught her the few letters he'd known, and hunted down the priest to make him teach him the right ones for Lucy's name. He'd been the one who'd gone to see the Jews to get her special medicine, and who'd made sure to get her proper food when there wasn't enough to go around.

Then his father had died, shot by the noble lord nearby while hunting in the forest. John had been caught poaching, and instead of putting him to a proper court of law, had simply shot him instead of the game.

Dane got to his feet and looked at the body. Still and cold, her hand still clutching at her blanket, she was dead.

There was only one explanation. It had to be witchcraft. Devils. Something supernatural had come and killed his sister and attacked him. He had to get help.

"So we'll follow the monster into the forest, catch it unawares and stick like a pig!" Stanley said, his voice already laced with triumph.

Standing around the fire was a group of men, most under 30. Hard, rough men who lived in a brutally cold land ravaged by vile beasts and monsters, living under the rule of cruel overlords.

Dean had gone into town and told of what had happened. How Lucy had been attacked and killed and himself attacked. He hadn't mentioned the burning cold feeling of the bite on his neck, but had simply said he'd been knocked out. A hard winter, tempers running foul, people tended to turn on each other then.

They'd gone back up to the cottage, and had found the tracks in the ground and followed them to the edge of the forest before going back. Now, at nightfall, they were going to follow the monster into the forest and kill it.

Dane slipped on the ground, barely missing the swing of Stanley's sword at his neck. It had started out nicely. They'd followed the tracks easily, a clear trail to any idiot through the forest. Almost too easy, as though it had been set.

Then they'd met a dead end near a series of caves, and started arguing. One thing led to another, a little argument about who was afraid, and Derek and Jonah had gone into the caves and then come back.

It had seemed to be a dead end, but then Derek and Jonah had started arguing again. Then Mark had stepped in, and one thing had lead to another, and they were all taking swings at each other, and things had just, escalated. It was almost as if they were bewitched.

Jonah was lying on the ground now, his neck cut open to reveal the white tracery of bone and pink of cartilage and red of blood.

Stanley let out a feral yell and the sword came down at Dane, striking the ground. Dane rolled away and scrambled to his feet, dashing away from Stanley and the carnage.

Oddly Stanley didn't follow, and Dane had a few moments to catch his breath, his back pressed against the cold wall. He'd run into the caves. Clearly, there was something within them that had bewitched Derek and Jonah, since they'd returned violent, and then the battle had followed.

But at least within the cave there wasn't anyone taking swings at his head. Besides, while he was in the cave, perhaps he could find the monster, or whatever had bewitched the other ands kill it. Killing monsters undid their spells after all didn't it?

Dane pushed a hand against the wall, meaning to propel himself forward only to meet the feel of cloth ruffles. Stones did not wear ruffles.

A cold sweat had broken against his brow. Dane turned to see the cobalt blue eyes of his attacker, framed by dark lashes and beneath them bloody red lips.

Cold arms encircled him, one hand reaching up to cover his mouth and hot lips moved at his throat. "Came back for more?" came the raspy voice of the vampire before the fangs sunk into him again, this time deep into his shoulder.

Dane spent the next two years of his life following the vampire from town to town, city to city. He followed the vampire, hunting it and occasionally landing a hit, more often times getting bitten himself.

At first he tried to warn the villages; a stranger was coming, one who wore silk and spoke in delicate tones who drank blood and could ensnare your mind. He stopped doing that when they started accusing him of being the monster. He remembered the vampire laughing at him for that.

Eventually the vampire had grown tired of playing with him. Tired of playing at being prey, though a more dangerous prey Dane had never hunted.

He'd come and asked Dane to make a bargain, a little exchange of blood and he'd have forever. The vampire didn't seem concerned that Dane wanted to kill him either he looked at him more of as a thing to study that could be crushed any moment if it stepped out of line.

Dane had refused, and continued the hunt. The vampire hadn't offered again, until then when Dane had been caught by the city folk, angry at the attacks, had changed him anyway.

Dane had awoken weeks later to find himself following the vampire around, calling him master and drinking blood as though it were water. He still didn't remember the first days of being a vampire, only a slight, niggling feeling of wanting to bite things, and then satisfaction when he gave in.

Years, decades had passed, and he'd left his sire, escaped if you will, hidden in a forest until he'd run into a werewolf, and then one thing had lead to another, and Dane, then calling himself Dean, had ended up the mercenary business, working for one nest or another, meeting with covens of witches, packs of shifters and more. He'd made a point to avoid his sire, and had only seen him distantly once or twice over the years, always at a distance.

Dean hadn't been sure of what his sire wanted when he'd turned him, and he still wasn't sure. The vampire turned up occasionally, a nod perhaps, a little meddling in Dean's affairs, but always in a very obviously sneaky way, as though he wanted to be caught, but wasn't going to make the first contact. At least, that was what he'd done in the past...

End Chapter

Afternotes:

I DO NOT MEAN ANY OFFENSE to Jews, nor do I have any prejudice/etc. against them. However, during medieval times, Jews and other non-Christians (or anyone who fit the bill) were often accused of witchcraft/etc. and killed for practicing it, when in fact it was merely better medical care, or just someone else telling lies (one book I've read recently had a court whereby if you turned in a Jew, you'd get half of their possessions.. so yeah, nice little incentive). I also have no idea whether or not anyone then would've had particularly good medicine for people with diabetes, but... I'm inventing something that helps so as to prolong Lucy's life. Also, medieval courts did exist, and though very corrupt, poaching could get off in certain cases (Jury of 12 peasants, they'd let another peasant off, but that turned up at different times in different countries).


	13. Chapter 13: The Ambush

**Chapter 13: The Ambush**

Vlad seethed with anger. He'd held up his end of the bargain, going with the client's minions to kill Dean, only to see the vampire walking around a few days later. Even worse, thinking he'd be in the clear for killing Dean, he'd changed Monica. Now he had only her idiotic friends to work with, and a new fledgling who was more trouble than she was worth.

He'd even tried contacting the client directly, only to find the account disabled, leaving no trace. A day later, and a virus had wiped out his own copies of the transaction. The money was still there, which was good, but without proof, the entire thing could be blamed on him!

He'd have to deal with Dean himself before he figured out what was going on. He couldn't strike directly at him, but from how he followed his little human pet, it would be easy to lead him into a trap. Vlad could have Brittany, or Bethany or whatever her name was, plant information for one of Sam's family members to pick up on, and then he could ambush them. If Dean was following, he'd be too concerned with protecting his pet to defend himself, and if he wasn't, Vlad could use Sammy to lead Dean into a trap...

Vlad sat back at his desk, casting a glance at the sleeping Monica. He could even use the fight as a way to dispose of Monica and her friends, destroying what was left of the evidence implicating him.

"So there are these creeps out by the old docks then?" Andrew said, attempting not to stare at the displayed cleavage of the teenaged girl across from him. If it hadn't been for her outfit, he wasn't sure she would have been able to get into the bar at all.

"Yeah. But you have to be, like, REALLY careful. There was a guy, Jack

Saunders, who went down there last year and he didn't come back. Then, two weeks later, the police, like, found this body that they said wasn't his, but Jessica said was so TOTALLY his, but, like, exsan-, like, really pale and stuff." Bethany said, bouncing in her seat.

"Exsanguinated." Andrew said absently. After weeks of looking for information, he had finally found some!

Andrew paid his tab, leaving the girl with some sort of fruity drink and the bar tender talking to her. Well, she was talking at the bar tender really, but he didn't have a doubt that she'd get home fine. For now, the hunt!

Sam ducked and a spray of cold blood hit his face as Andrew's machete embedded itself into the vampire's throat. Sam reached up and grabbed the handle, jerking it across the finish the job.

"This, this is a blood, massacre!" Andrew panted, pulling a gun (the bullets filled with dead man's blood, and built to explode upon contact), from his belt to shoot the oncoming vampire.

"Where's John?" Sam shouted back, parrying a punch from a vampire with the machete, it's hand falling to the ground.

"No idea!" Came the reply. "And stop chopping their hands off! That's how you lost the first one!"

Sam nodded grimly and felt Andrew move away from him, either to find John or else dealing with a new foe. But Sam had his own problems. He was running out of weapons. Andrew's machete no longer had any dean man's blood on it, worn away in the fight and Sam was left with that and his own belt knives, his gun emptied long ago.

He could barely feel anything from the few hits he'd sustained. One, a little cut on his upper thigh, he'd gotten almost an hour across and had quickly stopped bleeding, though it twinged every time he moved. The second, a cut across his bicep, was still bleeding, though sluggishly. Three was the punch that had caught him off chance and hurt worse than either of the other two.

Sam ducked, rolling on the ground among the carnage, picking up more blood and dirt. He wasn't sure if the motel would let them back in with the way they looked. If they made it back to the motel at all.

He got back up to his knees and felt his heart give a jolt at the sight of Dean. He was wearing the usual black t-shirt, a little too tight and jeans that had seen better days (though they were better than any of Sam's clothes), and his face was flushed. Sam watched as Dean moved in on one of the vampires, striking quickly from behind to see the vampire go flying.

None of the vampires Sam had tried punching had gone flying, and Andrew and the rest hadn't even bothered.

Dean flashed a feral grin at one of the other vampires and his nails...

His nails? His nails left bloody little marks on the vampire's neck, leading to torrents of blood.

Sam barely noticed the vampire leaping at him and fell to the ground under it, his breath knocked out of him. The vampire pinned him quickly and pushed his head up as though to bite his neck. A sudden jolt and the vampire was yanked away, flying back into the air.

Dean stood above him, his hair tousled, face flushed and a grin firmly implanted.

"Need some help there, Sammy?" he asked, holding out his hand as though none of what had happened had happened. As though they weren't fighting right now.

Sam declined the hand and pushed himself up slowly. It was odd. Dean was a much better fighter than either him or any of his cousins, even Joey, who'd gone to the Olympics.

Dean looked odd, halfway expectant, halfway, something else.

"Sam!" Came his father's yell. A bullet soon followed, whizzing in the air where Dean had been. "You're supposed to kill them you idiot!"

John Winchester's face was flushed and angry, a cut on one cheek, blood on his temple and down his shirt.

Sam looked away to see Dean, the grin gone from his face, standing a few feet away again.

"Dean..?" Sam asked, and looking back at his father, who was fumbling another bullet into the gun. His head hurt. His father shooting, Dean biting that girl before in the bar, the weird look on his face when he'd blown Sam, how fast he moved...

Sam didn't know what to think. Dean couldn't be a vampire. Could he?

The pieces were all falling together. Sam felt a sinking feeling in his stomach and tightened the grip on his machete.

Another bullet from John, and Dean had moved, Sam looked at him again, and the fangs, now dropped down and biting into his upper lip and rushed at him, the machete held out.

Sam swung the machete up towards Dean's neck only for Dean to dodge, moving to the side. Sam reversed the swing and cut down at Dean's stomach this time.

"Sam! Sammy! Stop!" Dean yelled at him, his face half confused and half sad. As though he'd expected it but had hoped it wouldn't happen.

"You bastard!" Sam shouted back. "You lied to me! You, you, MONSTER!"

Sam swung again and missed and felt his anger grow. Dean, no, the MONSTER, had seduced him and gotten him into bed, and no doubt had a hand in the ambush of his family.

Sam raised the machete up and swung down at Dean, using his superior height to get a better shot. Dean's hand came up and caught Sam's wrist, his fingernails digging in until Sam dropped the weapon, making a metallic clash on the ground.

Sam struggled to free his hand from Dean's grasp, using his other hand to punch Dean in the face. This time Dean couldn't dodge and Sam felt a grim satisfaction as his nose made a crunching noise and blood spurted forth.

He pulled his hand back again to punch again and as Dean tried to spin away, Sam caught his leg up with Dean's, sending them tumbling to the ground and splatters of bloody mud up in the air.

Sam struggled to try and pin Dean to the ground, only to end up on the bottom.

Dean sat on top of him, and Sam panted in the still air, still angry. The machete was just a few feet away. Why wasn't Dean hitting back?

"You fucking bastard!" Sam growled. "You set us up!"

"Sam, Sammy, no I-" Dean started before Sam cut him off. If he kept Dean talking long enough he might be able to reach the machete.

"It's SAM." he hissed, the machete's handle a slippery cold piece of leather in his hand.

"Sam I DIDN'T, I swear I had no ide-" Dean started before Sam swung the machete up towards his head only to have Dean catch it again throw it off into the distance.

"Sam," Dean's voice was pleading "You have to listen,"

Sam jerked his head up, his forehead catching Dean's lower jaw and sending his teeth clicking together painfully.

"Monster!" Sam hissed, "You evil, bastard monster!"

Dean's face looked sad and he closed his eyes, as though in preparation for something and a sudden shot came and hit the side of his ribs, drawing a curse from him.

Sam used the opportunity to try and get up, punching the wound with his left hand, but Dean just slumped down on him, turning into a dead weight.

Sam felt Dean's hands moving along his stomach and felt the cold spurt of blood as Dean clawed the bullet out awkwardly, the skin healing slowly.

His eyes came up, the green orbs filled with pain and Sam felt a twinge of guilt he hastily pushed away.

Dean's eyes were really very pretty, Sam thought. They were dark green wells that seemed to go on forever. Not the pale green that was so common, but something darker, with little spots of lighter green and specks of gold, like sunlight reaching through thick forest leaves. Dean's mouth was moving beneath his eyes, saying something and Sam fell into his eyes, drowning in green and gold.


	14. Chapter 14: Kidnapped!

**Chapter 14: Kidnapped**

Dean knew why Sam had found out that he was a vampire (again). Half f it was his own fault, he knew, being clumsy by not removing all the memories from Sam's mind. He didn't think Sam remembered about the shower, but with the other clues, Dean's cold body, the blow job and biting, and then the bar with the girl... It had been inevitable that he would find out.

And now here he was. Driving in the Impalla at a hundred miles (or so) an hour down a highway, fleeing Vlad's idiot minions who'd targetted Sam and his family. They'd made sure not to kill Sam during the fight, which was what had tipped him off that it wasn't normal. They were actually trying to kill Sam's family (and were mostly failing considering the hunter's abilities), but not Sam.

It had killed him just watching Sam get his ass handed to him during the fight but he'd known revealing himself would only lead to more questions, and as much as he didn't like John Winchester, he knew the man was competent. Then it had hit him; the little attack from whomever (he currently suspected his sire), and then this? If someone wanted to blackmail Dean, Sam was a better bargaining chip than had come around in years and with the hunters separated by Vlad's little band of vampires it wasn't a guarantee they'd survive. Then he'd known he had to step into the fight.

He'd knocked Sam out instead of continuing to fight him. He could only that when Sam woke up he'd be willing to listen. Maybe he wouldn't even remember; sometimes flicking switches in people's heads after wiping them re-wiped them. That was why Dean knew he couldn't wipe Sam's memory again. It wasn't just that he didn't want to, it was that he didn't know enough to do it safely. The problem was that he'd left his sire before learning enough to control his own powers, so while he might be a step above Vlad's idiot band of Mongrels he didn't know near enough to risk hurting Sammy by using his powers.

Sam awoke tied in the backseat of a car, speeding down a highway in the dead of night. His head felt like it had been pounded with hammers for hours and his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth. Slowly, so as not to alert whoever had kidnapped him, he started to shift his body into amore comfortable position.

The last thing he remembered was the ambush at the nest of vampires. There had been almost 50 of them, when they had only been prepared for maybe 10 at most. He'd seen his father go down, and Samuel slammed against a wall before he'd gotten too caught up in the fight to notice anything else. There was also, oddly enough, a strange memory of falling into green, which made absolutely no sense.

No, that wasn't quite right he remembered, he'd seen Dean at some point, moving faster than any human had a right to move.

It was all a blur. The drive down to where Andrew had said the vampires were, the walk down the road, and then the ambush.

It had started as just one vamp, jumping out from behind the docks, quickly subdued by his Andrew and John, but Sam and his grandfather were watching the fight by then, not the road, and after a few minutes the rest had come.

He quickly realized his bonds were too tightly tied for him to get out of them, and worse, he realized with a sickening feeling in his stomach, his knives had been removed from their usual places in his clothes. He couldn't tell from where he was, but he was willing to bet that even his boot knife, the one that was tucked in between the seam and so thin it could slice a human hair had been removed.

"Hello Sam" came a deep voice from the front seat of the car. Sam's breath caught in his throat and he looked up to see Dean looking over his shoulder from the front seat with a smile.

"Hi," was his ragged reply. Why Dean had decided to tie him up was beyond him, but while Dean was acting normal he might as well too.

"I expect you want water about now huh?" Dean asked, his face turned back to the rode, though Sam could see his face in the mirror, his green eyes concerned. Sam nodded slightly in reply.

Sam felt the car slow to stop by the side of the road. Dean unbuckled his seat belt and leaned back over his seat to hold a bottle of water to Sam's lips. Sam desperately gulped it down, dribbling bits over his chin and down onto his shirt.

"Uh Dean?" he asked when the water had been removed, "Why am I uh, tied up?"

Dean sighed in reply and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in little spikes. "You were fighting me, and we had to get away from there Sammy," he replied finally.

"Fighting you?" Sam asked. "The last thing I remember is seeing you under the docks, when we were ambushed."

"My father, Samuel," Sam tailed off, remembering. There had been quite a bit of blood but he could only hope it hadn't been theirs. After all, they'd been fighting the vampires and killed at least a few before they went under.

"They're dead Sam." Came the reply, and Sam bit his lip, his hair falling down to cover his face. Dean's hand reached down and pulled his chin up, green eyes meeting hazel.

"It wasn't your fault," he said. "It really wasn't."

Sam sighed. "Would you," He paused, not sure how to phrase it "Untie me now?"

Dean looked startled, as though he'd forgotten Sam was tied up. "Right sure," he replied, and climbed into the back seat to reach around and untie the knots. His breath was cold against Sam's neck, and Sam was glad when Dean let go of him and he could finally stretch out again.

Sam winced as he sat up and his muscles scream in protest. Apparently fighting vampires and then spending whoever knew how many hours tied up in the backseat of a car was not good for him.

"Here," Dean said, "Turn around,"

He turned obligingly towards Dean and felt Dean start rubbing his thumbs into Sam's back. Dean's hands were cold on his back and Sam felt his muscles relax. He closed his eyes and leaned back towards Dean, Dean's arms coming to wrap around him and lock around his chest.

Dean nuzzled his neck, and moved his mouth up to lick just under Sam's jawbone.

Cold breath and hands were one thing, but a cold tongue? Not exactly normal.

Sam stiffened in Dean's arms, and felt them tightened in response.

"You're cold." He said.

Dean didn't reply, but instead tightened his arms around Sam.

"You're not Dean." Sam stated and tried to move away from Dean.

"Sam, Sammy! Calm down!" Dean said as Sam dug his nails into Dean's arms and tried to pull them off. He didn't have a chance in the world of escaping.

Sam slowly stopped fighting, realizing it was pointless and panted into the night air, his ragged breathing the only sound in the car.

"Sam," Dean started, this was it, "It is me,"

"No you're not!" Sam snarled in reply. "Dean's not a fucking vampire!"

"Shh," Dean murmured against Sam's ear, his lips almost on his earlobe.

"Get off of me!" Sam growled and Dean felt his undead heart twist. Sam loved when Dean sucked on his earlobes.

"I am a vampire," he said finally. "And I'm Dean."

"You can't be!" was the reply. "Unless," Sam twisted his head up in an attempt to see Dean's face, "Unless they Changed you?"

Dean could almost hear the pleading hope in Sam's voice. If Dean were only newly changed than it could be reversed (well, with mongrel vampires like Vlad it could be reversed, but not with the type of vampire Dean was). If Dean were only newly changed, it was hardly his fault. He was incredibly tempted to lie to Sam, to tell him he'd been changed, and that the vampires had been about to change Sam too before Dean had gotten them out of there. He'd believe that; vampires often changed hunters into vampires, knowing that half would kill themselves from shame, and the other half would be better trained than most fledglings and using them to hurt the remaining Hunters.

Dean could tell him that, maybe even implant a few false memories of them 'fixing' Dean, and then they could go on as before.

But he couldn't.

Not again.

"No, Sammy" Dean replied. "I've always been a vampire, I've been one since the day we met."

"You bastard," Was Sam's reply; he was so angry his voice shook. "So what, you've been using me to spy on us so you could kill us all?" he snarled, his body tightening and his nails digging into Dean's forearms again.

"No, Sam, it wasn-" Dean started, before Sam dug one hand into the crook of Dean's elbow and stabbed one long nail into it. Dean hissed in pain and that was enough; Sam shoved his arm off and started to get up, reaching for the doorknob.

Dean grabbed Sam's wrist and turned him around, pushing him down onto the seat and wrapped one hand around his neck, forcing him down before straddling him, trying to ignore his hardening cock.

Sam struggled for a moment, his face going red as he choked.

"Get off of me!" Sam gasped finally, falling back and wheezing.

Dean loosened his grip after a moment to make sure Sam wasn't faking. He had hoped it wouldn't be like this. Sam wasn't even looking at him, his eyes screwed up as though he were in pain.

"Sam," Dean said, and he opened his eyes to look at Dean.

"I didn't want this to happen, I didn't want you to know," he started, knowing he was babbling.

"Oh, so you though you could what, just fuck me, fuck me over, kill my family, keep me as some sort of pet?" Sam snarled, his body tightening and his shoulders rising up, ready to punch Dean.

"No, I-" Dean cut off, pinning Sam's arm down with his free hand, "I wasn't planning for this at all Sammy," he said quietly.

"Don't call me that." Came the cold reply.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. He wished he had some way of explaining this that wouldn't make Sam try to kill him. Though the Hunter was no threat to him, he didn't want to hurt him and it would be months, if not longer, before Vlad's group stopped hunting him.

He opened his eyes and Sam's furious hazel eyes met his.

"So what_ is_ your plan then vampire?" he challenged.

Dean looked at him for a moment longer before moving his hand from Sam's throat to his shoulder, not pinning him anymore, but with enough pressure that Sam wouldn't be able to get up if he tried.

"I don't know," he said simply, and leaned down to catch Sam's lip with his.


	15. Chapter 15: Sam's Escape

**Chapter 15: Sam's Escape and More**

Dean looked at him for a moment longer before moving his hand from Sam's throat to his shoulder, not pinning him anymore, but with enough pressure that Sam wouldn't be able to get up if he tried.

"I don't know," he said simply, and leaned down to catch Sam's lip with his.

Sam moaned breathlessly against him and tried to pull away, his head falling back against the seat of the Impala, his eyes glazed.

"Sam?" Dean asked as his eyes closed and his body went slack. "Sammy?"

Dean sighed and pulled off of Sam, his Sammy.

The blood loss, the fight, how he's reacted to Dean, the LACK of reaction to his family... it had to be too much.

Dean reached back over the seats to pull open and glove box and grab a pair of handcuffs from it. Unconscious or not, he wasn't taking any chances.

A tall figure cut her way down to the docks, stepping lightly over the dead bodies and bits of carnage. She was small, barely more than 14 or 15 really and slender, dressed in clothes a century or so too formal. Thick, dusky lashes framed dark green eyes flecked with amber and set in golden skin. Her hair was a deep chestnut brown and curled, falling down her waist untamed in a torrent.

She stopped by a body in the mud, struggling to breath and bleeding out of multiple injuries. She settled down in the mud beside him, careless of the ruffles of her dress falling into the mud.

"John Winchester." she said with satisfaction, running her nails lightly across his chest. His breath hitched in response. "A lot of people want you dead you know."

"Bitch," came bubbling out over his lips, accompanied by a bubble of blood.

She wrinkled her nose with disgust. People dying were so disgusting. Getting them there, now that was certainly fun, but the actual act, excepting their last breath was disgusting.

"Hmm, yes," she said, reaching a finger up to wipe the blood off and bringing it to her mouth, licking it off. "I've got a deal for you, you know."

"Go to hell." was the reply. He was so hateful, John Winchester. First his dead brother, then his dead baby, his infidelity to his wife, his wife dying, and then his darling Sammy; it was a lot for anyone to handle, never mind an emotionally retarded hunter like him.

"Hmm, do you want me to send Adam there along with you?" she asked and the hunter's eyes widened in shock. She smiled, revealing sharp, white teeth. He though he'd hidden his secret so long. An accidental pregnancy, a shotgun marriage, a miscarried baby, and a bad relationship with his new wife was all that was needed to send the oh-so-honorable John Winchester into the arms of another woman. "Or Sammy." she asked.

"Sam's dead." John spat over broken teeth. "He's out of your reach."

"Mhm, not really darling, not with his darling Dean around." She said, watching John's face turn red with rage. She leaned closer, breathing in the short, angry breaths coming out of his mouth. It was like tasting rage (f such a thing could be done). "I bet you right now that your precious little boy's shacked up somewhere with Dean, fucking like there's no tomorrow." she said.

John struggled, his arm moving to clutch at the handle of the broken machete at his side.

"I bet you, Sam's getting already Dean's bitch. I bet you Dean's biting him and he's begging for more, dirty little blood whore."

"You, BITCH." John said, struggling for breath.

"Ah yes, I know it must be SO horrible for you to die, knowing your son's off playing pet to one of those monsters you spent your life hunting. Maybe if you'd stayed home more, raised him better, things would've turned out different."

"But the thing is Johnny, -I can call you Johnny can't I?" she started, tapping her fingers lightly on his temple in time with his heartbeat. "Is that Dean has something I need, and he's not a very easy man to find."

"So what I'd like to do is for you to find Sammy for me, so I can find Dean. After you can have your precious son back; Dean won't need him anymore." She smirked at the last thought.

"I don't make deals with demon bitches." John shot at her.

"Ah but I'm not a demon Johnny boy; I'm Lucretia."

A confused look flitted across John's face as he struggled to breathe.

"So, John, do we have a deal?" she asked, "You find your son, we find Dean, and you get him back. What do you say?"

"Oh, and time's ticking John, you've only got a few more minutes before you're out and then, dead." she said, waving a hand airily.

John blinked and his fingers slipped from the machete.

"I get Sam back?" he asked. "Normal?"

Lucretia rolled her eyes. "As normal as that boy will ever be. Do I take it we have a deal then?"

"Fine." John choked out and she licked a finger before drawing it down over his forehead, painting a line.

Slowly, ever so slowly, John's breathing evened out and he watched in amazement as his skin knit back together.

"It's a little trick of mine." she said in reply to his unasked question, getting up from the mud.

"I'll contact you when I need you." she continued, throwing a cell phone onto his chest.

"Oh and John? Don't think about running, that little mark, binds you to me. Try to double cross me, and well, you won't like it."

With that she walked off across the battlefield, leaving John alone and unharmed. The white ruffles of her dress were coated in blood and mud at the edges, frothy and pink beneath the dark red of the rest.

Dean looked down into the back seat of the Impala. There was Sam, his hand still cuffed to the side handle of the Impala, breathing lightly. He didn't feel like driving for once.

He'd gone and fed, this time on a trucker whose car had broken down. The man wasn't dead (although with what he was eating he had another 2 or 3 years tops), and Dean was no longer hungry, his skin rosy and warm from his meal.

He wanted so much to crawl back into bed with Sam. Not the angry Sam who'd hit him and sworn and called him a monster, but the Sam of last week who'd cuddled up after sex, his freakishly long legs entangled with Dean's.

Maybe just for a minute. Just a minute, and then he'd get back on the road.

Dean slowly opened the back door of the Impala and sat down on the seat beside Sam. He reached a hand to softly touch his hair, pushing the long locks out of Sam's eyes and slowly settled down to watch him sleep.

Sam woke up to find himself cuddled up to something warm and relaxed for a moment before stretching his body out on the back seat. His hands hit the inner door of the inside of the Impala and the links on his left wrist clinked.

Beside him was De-, THE VAMPIRE, sleeping against him without a care in the world, his head against Sam's chest. With the warmth Dean was giving off, he could almost pretend he was human. But no, his heart wasn't beating, his chest didn't rise, it was false.

Sam shifted, moving his legs slowly away from Dean's, his free hand coming up between them.

In one swift movement he pushed his legs back into Dean's and felt a smug sense of satisfaction as Dean fell to the floor of the Impala, away from him.

Dean swore, cursing as he found himself on the floor of the Impala. He'd known Sam was awake when he'd moved his legs away.

"Damn it Sam!" he said, clumsily getting off of the floor to sit on the edge of the seat, Sam curling his legs up away from him to sit against the other door. "Why'd you have to push me on the floor? I was having a good dream."

"Stop touching me." Sam hissed back his eyes full of hate.

Dean looked away and opened the door on his side, getting out. "Fine."

They drove in silence the rest of the way, Sam unwilling to talk, Dean unsure of what to say.

It was a stop in another town that Sam got his opportunity in. The town was small enough for most people to notice a stranger, but large enough for him to hide in for a few hours before catching a bus to get away. Dean had had to unchain him from the Impala to avoid suspicion.

Sure he'd told Sam to stay in the Impala while he went off to feed or whatever it was he was doing.

After he was sure Dean was out of the way, Sam had slipped out of the car, leaving it by the diner, the door unlocked. If someone stole it he wasn't sure whether Dean would go after him first or the car, and hopefully it would give him a little more time.

Sam walked carefully around the diner, avoiding routes in the alleys. Hiding in them would just make it easier for Dean to jump him he knew, even though he hated staying in plain sight so much.

He crossed the street quickly, hunching down, trying to make himself less conspicuous. Being tall may help him in a fight, but when hiding it really sucked.

He stopped at a nice little slum area, the remains of one of those 'a better life development' projects that had devolved into a sort of slum, filled mostly with street people and teenagers looking for a kick.

Sam went into inside one of the buildings, making sure to hide any signs of having entered in the first place and settled down to wait.

Dean let the girl go, watching her spin and giggle in the bar, her long blond hair covering the bite mark. She had tasted nice, but now it was time to get back to Sammy. He'd felt a little weird leaving him alone in the car, unlocked, and with the look Sam had given him, he half expected Sam to have left by the time he got back.

After his reaction to Dean he wasn't sure what to do. The first time Sam had cut him with a razor. The second, he'd tried a machete and it wasn't like the third time was going any better. Unlike the rest of his kind, Dean had never really bothered with humans as serious partners; it was too complicated. Witches, other vampires, other supernaturals basically, were fine when he wanted a relationship of more than a night or two, but humans were just... not. He couldn't remember the last time he'd screwed someone without biting them first (screwing was a good distraction; it explained why the person felt tired afterwards, and the stronger memories helped them block the biting on their own. Besides, Dean liked pie.), except for Sam.

For one of the first times in decades he cursed his own idiocy. This was why vampires collected together into covens; so they could have someone else to bounce ideas off of when they needed it. Dean hadn't had that in over a hundred years.

He crossed the street, his eyes down until the yelling of a bunch of drunken teenagers broke his rumination.

They were driving down the street in a '67 Chevy Impala, waving their arms in the air. It really was a very nice car, the –

Dean broke off. That was HIS '67 Chevy Impala! He ran out in front of the car, his hands crunching into the front of it, bringing it to a stop before the idiot teenagers could.

"Hey, man, stop tryin' t'get yoursel- you-selves killed!" the teenager driving called, a bottle of whiskey hanging from his hand, giggling as he said it.

"Get the hell out of my car." Dean said, his voice deadly quiet. The teenagers fell silent, and the ones in the back began to pour out, stumbling as they went.

"Hey man, you really shouldn't leave the keys in a car as fine as this," one of the teenagers said, trying to pin the blame on him.

Dean turned to look at him with a glare strong enough to burn. "Get out of here before I kick your asses into next week you little shits." he said, his voice a mere note above growling.

The kids scattered and Dean ran his hands over the Impala. "Sorry baby,' he said, patting it like it was a pet. "I'll fix you when we get home."

A crunch of a boot on the floor had Sam up. He walked to the nearest window and peaked out careful to keep out of sight.

His breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of a black '67 Impala. Sam swore under his breath. Dean!

"You bastard," Sam breathed, feeling the knife pressed up against the small of his back.

"Turn around Sammy, and start walking," came the cold reply.

"Or you'll what?" Sam challenged, turning to face Dean. "Kill me? We both know that doesn't match with your plan."

Dean huffed angrily. "No, but I WILL bite you if I don't get fed regularly Sammy," he threatened.

"Just think," he breathed in Sam's ear, leaning up close into his personal space. "Me, biting you until you fall unconscious; it'd solve a lot of problems Sammy,"

Sam froze, his breathing slowed as he tried to stop himself from hitting Dean and trying to run.

"Start walking." Dean growled and Sam did.

Afternotes: The term "blood whore" is from Richelle Meed's books about the Vampire Academy, and basically means someone who gets bitten during sex (screw dirty, it sounds like fun!). Also, the miscarried baby would have been Dean had he survived (and then onto the real story line); cries for baby Dean.


	16. Chapter 16: Dean's House

**Chapter 16: Dean's House**

I am a review whore. Opinions and critique (beyond; 'i hate this. you suck.') strongly encouraged

Another day of following old roads off the beaten path and they arrived at a dilapidated mansion.

"So where are we?" Sam asked, his voice that of a sullen teenager, dropping his

bags in the middle of the room.

"It's one of my houses," Dean replied. "I have a few and most of the other vampires don't know anything about them, so we're safe here."

"You mean I'm safe here, "Sam corrected sarcastically, crossing his arms against his chest. "Since you're SO convinced that Vlad and his gang will come after me,"

"As if I couldn't handle them," he added at the end.

"They'll come after me too Sammy," Dean said, Sam's head shooting up his hazel eyes narrowed in a glare, "I broke certain rules by stepping into that fight with them and they won't be pleased. Especially since they think you're something special."

Sam continued glaring and he began to remind Dean of an angry toddler. He'd been angry for the remainder of the ride there, only attempting to run off once while Dean went to feed. Then Dean had reminded Sam what would do if he didn't get his meal every so often while pointedly looking at Sam's neck like it was a steak. Sam had gotten the point of the threat, and though it was empty, he'd stayed.

"Come on Sammy, you can't be angry at me forever," Dean said, striding across the room to stop in front of Sam, looking up at him. Dean reached a hand out to cup Sam's face and Sam batted it away, moving back.

"There are bedrooms on the second floor, pick anything you like," he said finally, jerking a head towards the stairs. "Can't promise it's clean, but most of what you need should be there and we can get anything else we need in the morning."

"Not going to make me sleep with you then?" Sam sneered. "Tied up so I can't get away again?" Dean could practically read his mind; he was flashing back to when Dean and him had fallen asleep together after sex, and then the little twinge of pain and guilt from when Dean had curled up with Sam in the Impala after the fight.

Dean's jaw tightened; it was really starting to piss him off that Sam didn't trust him. "No, but I can always chain you up in the dungeon if you try," he challenged, and Sam spun on his heel sharply and started up the stairs.

Lucy let the man fall back into the gutter, his throat a bloody mess. Over 500 years and she still hadn't mastered the art that was biting delicately. Dean, she knew, had spent years perfecting his technique so there was barely a trace unless you looked closely. She, on the other hand, had spent decades learning her art, bringing herself back from the insanity that was death, and then looking to see where her big brother, her Dean was.

He hadn't been there.

She'd had a little relapse then, crying her eyes out and smashing things and her master, Magnos, had almost given up on her, a witch girl, dead by the hand of a vampire and then brought back to life by the blood of another.

He'd created her in experiment at first, after following as associate who'd killed her in the first place.

She couldn't remember any of what had happened at first; waking up and imprinting on a parent vampire, something she was told she hadn't done. It was yet another way she broke the normal rules vampires lived by. Unlike the others she wasn't bound by mind and body to do what her sire said.

Lucy did remember waking up in Venice, hidden beneath the canals with him, dressed in a ridiculous white dress and crawling through the muck. She remembered hunting down the pry of that day, a young woman named Lucretia and killing her.

The original Lucretia had been gorgeous, with white blond hair, so find strands of it had snapped in her grasp when she'd twirled them around her fingers to bite her. Her skin had been a pale, creamy white so untouched it seemed to glow when the sun touched it. Her eyelashes had been a pale gold fine and thin like the plastic of the modern age, framing eyes of china blue. Her nose had been a silly, little thing, barely more than a snub.

Lucy remembered the look of disgust on seeing her. Remembered how ANGRY she'd been to be given scorn from a so-called noble just on account of her darker skin and tangled hair. She'd made that spoiled little rich girl pay for looking at her with such derision. Hadn't Dean told her she was just as pretty as any noble lady?

From there she'd made a point of appearing ever the perfect lady with her master in public, taking Lucretia's name and keeping a bit of her hair as a reminder. It was wrapped around her finger now, a silvery-golden strand.

But things like that wouldn't matter soon, not when she had her Dean back.

She'd searched for so long, the mere idea of having Dean back to hold her made little shivers run down her spine.

The first time she'd tried, she'd relapsed and been found by Magnos living in a cave above a village. Her clothes had been torn to shreds and most of her had been covered in blood and mud. The villagers had been living in terror, little bands of people holed up in houses, running from her daily hunts to try and escape.

Thank god for the Black Plague or she could never have gotten away with it. They'd eaten the rest of the village, leaving it a bloody, burning mess and she'd gone back into training.

It had happened the next time too. And the next, until she couldn't remember how many times she'd gone looking for Dean and not found him.

Sometimes she felt angry with him, for just leaving her dead body there and going out to hunt. Other times she wondered why Magnos hadn't changed Dean as well. Usually though, these trivial thoughts were lost with her ever-growing need to find her half-brother again.

Who'd been the one to play with her when she was little after all? Dean. Who'd been the one to keep her alive when her mother had died? Dean. Who'd been nice to her all her short human life and taken care of her, even when her horrible sickness came and made her a monster, something called 'diabetes'? Dean. And then, who, when she had died, had gone out in search of the monster to try and make the rest of the village safe? Dean.

Lucy sighed and watched the sun drop down over the horizon, stepping out of her hiding place to meet John Winchester. The sun might not burn her any longer but she still didn't like it.

"Hello Johnny boy," she said, making him start. She could practically smell the guilt and fear reeking off of him. It made him soo guilty to be working with a monster like her.

"There're in a house by a lake. Abandoned. It's been there for years, no one's lived there for years but a Mr. Daniel Hunter owns it."

"And you're sure it's them?" Lucretia asked.

John shuffled his feet. "Yes, Sam's phone wasn't hard to track, not hard once I got cracked the little wall he put up to try and disable the spyware."

Lucretia waved a hand. "I don't care about technicalities Johnny Boy, just get it done." These newfangled technological devices gave her a headache. "Spyware," "The Net," all of it paled in comparison to a good knife.

John nodded in response and pulled a map out of his pocket. "Look," he said, gesturing at the map, "I've picked out the area Dean's house is supposed to be in."

Sam was sitting on the windowsill, looking out onto the grounds surrounding Dean's house. In the distance he thought he could see what looked like an overgrown maze. If he had a car he could get out of the window from here, climb down the side of the house using the creeping vine and be away before Dean even noticed, but he was willing to bet the woods beyond were full of werewolves. A howl answered the last of his thoughts, and he turned back to face the room, leaning against the window, wishing it were last week.

Last week he hadn't known Dean was a vampire. Last week his father and Samuel had still been alive. Last week he hadn't been stuck in a room that probably cost more than the motel rooms he'd stayed in for the last year. Instead he'd been stuck in a crappy motel room with father, hunting vampires and sneaking out to see Dean and fuck him-

Sam cut off his thoughts and punched the window sill beside him as he felt himself grow hard at the thought of how Dean had panted while he'd blown him, how Dean'd-

He wasn't thinking about this! He told himself and got up. There was bound to be a shower around here, and he'd make sure it was COLD.

A sudden knock to the door made him turn his head up. The doorknob twisted and he felt himself reaching for his belt knife instinctively and mentally cursed when he remembered that it wasn't there.

"Sam?" came Dean's hesitant voice, followed by his head poking around the frame. He looked just like the Dean of last week.

"Do you want dinner?" he asked, a hand with a brown paper bag appearing below his head.

Sam glared at first and didn't reply, before huffing in anger through his nose.

"Fine." he said and saw the door swing forward to reveal Dean standing there with a forlorn look on his face. He reached a hand out and jerked the bag out of Dean's hand before he could enter and slammed the door in his face.

He sat down at the desk and pulled the food, KFC chicken, out and glared at it as well. He felt half guilty about slamming the door in Dean's face, he'd looked so sad. But he threatened to feed off of you, a little angry voice reminded in his head. But he kidnapped you and let your family die. But he lied to you the whole time, he doesn't care about you at all.

Sam didn't want to think about any of it, so he reached a hand around one of the drumsticks and bit into it, wishing he could stop thinking about Dean. He shoved away the little voice that reminded him that the food could easily be poisoned and was certainly not very good for him.

Dean stood in the open door of Sam's room, watching as the Hunter slept, his heart beat slow and his breathing even. In sleep the angry lines Dean had gotten so used to seeing over the past few days on his face were smoothed out, and he looked even younger than his 21 years. He'd pulled the dresser across the door, preventing Dean from getting in through the door without making noise, so he'd come through the window.

He only hoped Sam wouldn't get so angry he shut Dean out completely.

Dean stalked silently across the room and sat down on the bed, reaching out a hand to draw the covers off of Sam and slip underneath them. He reached an arm around Sam's side coming to rest on his stomach.

He pressed his body up against Sam's, slipping one leg between Sam's two, waiting for him to wake up.

Sure enough, within a few seconds Sam stiffened and woke up.

"Thought you weren't going to make me sleep with you." He said, his voice muzzy with sleep but still angry.

"I changed my mind." Dean replied, careful not to tighten his arms. Sam wasn't fighting yet.

"Get off."

"No."

Now Sam started to struggled, shoving his ass back into Dean's crotch and then twisting his body forward, following with elbow strikes to Dean's chest.

Dean twisted sideways to avoid the rest of the elbow strikes and leaned in to kiss the side of Sam's neck, teasing the flesh between his teeth for a moment before letting go.

Sam stiffened at the teeth and stopped moving.

"Stop," he said, and Dean could smell the fear, guilt, and surprisingly, need, coming off of him. "Please,"

Dean let go of Sam's neck, licked it, and blew air across the wet spot to see Sam shiver slightly.

"I'm not going to hurt you Sammy," he said again.

"Then let go," Sam replied, his voice tight.

"Not unless you let me sleep here,"

"You don't even sleep,"

"No, but I'm tired of fighting." Dean said.

"And I'm sick of being lied too." came the reply. "And tied up, and ordered around, and threatened by someone who's supposed to l-, who's a monster." Sam, said, a snarl in his voice at the last bit.

"Would you have let me in if you'd known what I was before?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

Silence followed and he thought for a moment he'd been wrong.

"Fine."

"You can stay. For tonight."

Note: In martial arts, you do actually break a 'bear hug' by shoving your butt back and then elbowing them, though it's more for when you're standing up, and even then a very stupid idea in Sam's case. Also, since Sam has about four inches on Dean, his elbow strikes would be hitting Dean higher up than most elbow strikes, since Dean's head his level with his on the pillow. There are liable to be 'Sam learning martial arts from Dean' later, with a hell of a lot more than martial arts going down on the matts! Also, Lucy = Lucretia, and she's a vampire of sorts... different type than Dean though.


	17. Chapter 17: Making Up And Making Out

**Chapter 16: Making Up and Making Out**

I know, they've been fighting for a while, and I STILL haven't let Sam cry over his family... Hopefully I've got this right; I'm an icecream sandwich, and while I have seen many sessions of crying while hiding in laundry rooms (socks!), it's all a bit fuzzy to me.

Sam awoke alone. It was morning in Dean's house, and there was no Dean cuddled around him. He could almost imagine the entire thing had been a dream, except, no, there was the dresser, moved back against the wall where it was supposed to be as opposed to against the door like he'd left it.

He almost missed Dean. If they'd been back at his motel room Sam would've pouted and gotten breakfast out of Dean for letting him wake up alone.

A noise in the corridor and the door creaked open, revealing Dean with a tray of breakfast food. Sam almost laughed at the likeness to previous mornings.

Dean walked to the opposite side of the bed, the sun shining directly down on his skin, making it glow.

"How can you walk in the sun anyway?" Sam asked. "I thought vampires couldn't."

Dean smiled. No yelling, no throwing things, no punching, a good start to the day. "I'm a special sort of vampire." he said, setting the tray down on the side of the bed he had vacated. While that wasn't specifically true, telling a Hunter of what real vampires (non-mongrels) was frowned upon and for good reason.

Sam nodded in acquiesce.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked, nodding at the space on the floor he'd left them.

"Washed." was the reply. "You bled all over the shirt from before, and I figured you'd want the pants clean anyway."

Dean rose from where he was half-sitting on the bed. "There're some of my clothes in the dresser; they should fit."

Sam nodded and Dean walked out, pausing in the doorway to look over his shoulder. "I'll be in the laundry room when you're done, it's on the main floor."

With that, he was gone, leaving Sam with a tray full of pancakes.

"Here." Dean said, passing the worn pair of jeans to Sam. "You really should get new clothes."

Sam glared at the back of Dean's head.

"Is there a phone I can use?" he asked.

"Why, want to call the police?" Dean asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"No. My grandmother." Sam replied. "She should know I'm okay."

Dean nodded and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Number?" he asked and Sam fed it to him. Dean handed Sam the phone and walked out of the laundry room, pausing in the doorway to make sure Sam wasn't just going to hang up and call someone else.

"Grandmother?" Sam asked. "Yeah, I know, it's Deana, you're too young to be a grandmother." Sam paused, listening, his face going grave. "Listen, Deana, Samuel, my dad, Andrew, I,"

Dean withdrew from the room, walking out of range. This wasn't something he had a right to intrude on. Sam's family had died and he was just now getting to deal with it. Dean knew from losing his own father, mother, stepmother, and then Lucy, had sucked. He might not have been that close to his stepmother, but seeing Lucy cry had made him wish the woman was still alive, just for her.

He could still hear Sam a bit, just the faint pitter-patter of his heart beating a little too fast.

Dean walked back and stopped outside of the door.

Sam was sitting on the floor by the washing machine, his head in his hands, the phone on the floor beside him with a dial tone.

He looked up at Dean, his eyes bright and face splotchy. His lower lip trembled and he broke Dean's gaze to look down again, his shoulders shaking silently.

Dean walked in and sat down hesitantly beside Sam. After a few moments he reached out a hand to Sam's shoulder, rubbing slowly.

Sam looked back up at him. "You know, he, he was pissed at me for you." He said, his voice cracking.

"Shh, I know," Dean said, moving his arm across Sam's back to hug him sideways.

"He, he, never got over it. He was so PISSED I was bi, and he, he, never gave a damn about me. None of it, Stanford, soccer, none of it was good enough for him. Not if I wasn't a good little hunter drone!" Sam made a choking sound and Dean pulled him closer, Sam's face buried against his chest.

Sam gave several choking gasps, his tears sliding down Dean's shirt to soak in against his skin and run down to his navel.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him into his lap. His arms were just tight enough to hold Sam to him, not restraining.

"Shh, it'll be okay Sam," He said, rubbing his hand in circles along Sam's back. "It'll be fine,"

Sam lifted his head up to look at him, his hazel eyes rimmed in red, tears clinging to his eyelashes like little specks of glass, reflecting the light upwards and making his eyes glow.

He moved very slowly, pulling himself up to face Dean, still halfway in his lap. Dean wasn't sure what to expect from the way he was looking at him. Sam moved forward, pressing his lips to Deans.

It was a simple kiss, Dean's lips pressed to Sam's, nothing special. Possibly one of the most 'vanilla' kisses between them, but it was worth more than any of the others.

Sam's tongue darted out and Dean's followed, chasing it to taste the salt of his tears between them.

Afternotes:

Yes, I know, there's no morning chapter where Dean leaves Sam behind in his motel room (probably to feed), but there's quite a bit I half-wrote and then left out. I may end up writing a mini-series of 'incerts' (if I can get them into a decent fashion) for Dean and Sam's week or so of hooking up. Ah the fun things you can do with icing!


	18. Chapter 18: Lucretia Causes Trouble

**Chapter 18: Lucretia Causes Trouble**

And the entire reason I started writing this was to learn to write porn, and AVOID major plotlines (facepalm). As always, reviews are strongly encouraged by the Dust bunnies under my bed, especially if you've got criticism (beyond: I hate you. This sucks) since it can often give me brilliant little ideas. (Hopefully this makes up for the shorter previous chapter and the delay in posting.)

Sam's tongue darted out and Dean's followed, chasing it to taste the salt of his tears between them.

Dean deepened the kiss, pulling Sam closer. Sam turned his head to the side and broke the kiss. Undeterred Dean continued kissing a line down Sam's jawline to reach his throat.

"No Dean, we can't." Sam said, his voice still ragged and Dean broke off to look at him questioningly.

"I, I can't." Sam said, ducking his head and pushing back. Dean let him go and Sam toppled out of his lap onto the floor, skidding away from Dean, his eyes blown wide.

Dean made a half-smile cross his face. It was a lot to digest. Dead father, dead Grandfather, dead cousin, and a vampire, whatever he was to Sam? He just hoped Sam would get over it soon.

Dean stood up, brushing imaginary lint off of his clothes, watching Sammy curl up against himself again. "I'll be around if you need me 'kay?" he asked and Sam's head gave a barely perceptive jerk.

"Did you, did you ever bite me?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean over his knees.

Dean paused in the doorway, unsure of what to say. He hadn't bitten Sam, but what he had done, was more than enough to make Sammy run and never look back. "No," he said finally.

"You're lying." came Sam's reply, his voice ragged again, as though he was going to cry again.

Dean knelt back down, grabbing one of Sam's hands away from his knees.

"I promise you Sammy, I've never bitten you and I won't." Not unless you want me to, he amended mentally. After all, what vampire wouldn't want to bite someone? Especially his Sam.

Dean saw Sam's Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

"I, I did," Dean started and broke off.

"You did what?" Sam asked, looking back up at Dean, his eyes puffy and red, the hazel almost made green by the contrast.

"I did, make you forget something. Dean finished, grimacing. It was out there. Sam might run; he might not. Dean could only hope he didn't.

"Forget what?" Sam asked, his voice tight and Dean ducked his head down. "Forget WHAT Dean?" Sam asked again, moving towards Dean aggressively.

"You figured it out, before." Dean said, his eyes closed. "You figured it out while we were... and you attacked me and so I made you forget it."

Sam looked livid. "You,"

"Sam, please" Dean pleaded. "Don't get mad, PLEASE. I just, I didn't know what else to do, I just, you were," Dean stopped. He had no way to explain this.

"Can you fix it?" Sam asked. "Let me remember?"

Dean's shoulder's slumped. "I, I don't know Sammy, I mean, I could try, but I just, don't know. I don't, I've never," he broke off.

"I've never tried to reverse it." he finished, biting his lip.

Sam let his head slump back down to his knees, curling in on himself.

"Sammy," Dean pleaded, but there was no reply.

Dean stood and gave Sam one last look before willing himself away to the garage.

Dean lay under the front bumper of the Impala. The front of it was ruined, his handprints embedded into it. There was even a puncture from one of his nails.

He'd have to unscrew the entire thing, then look around for a replacement, then check that the replacement fit properly, and then install it. It sounded easy, but if he wanted Original Impala parts he'd have to look around a bit and that'd take months. Then of course there would be the usual markings on the inside of it; protection symbols, symbols to hide the user (or driver and car in this case), strength and more.

It surprised him that he wasn't more pissed at Sam for leaving the car to a bunch of idiot teenagers. The Impala was his baby after all, and had been since it'd first been made years ago. It had been one of the first cars he'd found that really felt right and he hadn't found a better one yet.

While he normally messed around with humans while biting them, he didn't normally just have sex with them. Even if Sammy had started out as a meal, he hadn't ended up as one and Dean had no idea what to do about it.

Normally, vampires associated freely only with other supernatural creatures (vampires –though usually only of the right blood lines-, shapeshifters of various types, the moon-cursed werewolves, the fae folk and more), humans were left as a sort of walking cheeseburger. They couldn't possibly understand everyone vampires could, not after all the centuries spent walking the earth. Besides that, there was the entire supernatural issue to deal with. The Nephilim were probably the only humans to really know what the supernaturals had to deal with.

But Nephilim with their angel blood and exclusive society weren't really the same as other humans. They even admitted it, calling the rest of human kind 'Mundanes' or 'Mundies.' It may not have been unheard of for a vampire to fall for a human, but it wasn't something Dean had ever done. Ever seen. Ever, anything really. He'd only ever heard about it in whispers.

Things had been much easier to deal with when Sammy didn't know. Then there had been the chance Sam would just leave, and they'd part ways, never to see each other ever again. As always that thought made Dean's stomach clench. It brought the image of Sam laughing at him, his hazel eyes blown wide and smiling from the inside, his face split open by a grin. And with Sam's family dead, it wasn't really an option anymore was it? Not with all Sam knew, not with the way he felt...

Dean pulled the final screw out, tearing the metal frame in frustration. None of this was helping. He could think about it for decades and he still wouldn't have a satisfactory answer. He'd always been more of an action person at least. That he could fix, could try to fix.

Staying here under his car wouldn't help. Talking to Sammy would though. They'd work it out, eventually.

(This goes back in the timeline a bit, occurring before Sam cried in the past chapter. Sorry)

John leaned against the car awkwardly, smoking a cigarette. The smoke was twisting upwards in the morning mist. The foul monster he'd befriended, no, the foul monster he'd made a deal with was wandering around in the mist, looking for food.

They'd found the house easily enough and had scouted it out a bit before. Then Lucretia had ordered John to drive a stolen car out and now he was waiting, though he didn't know for what.

"What are we waiting for anyway?" He asked, stubbing out the cigarette on the hood of the car.

Lucretia turned to him, a charming smile on her red lips. "For Dean to go and fix his car of course. We need him out of the way before we kidnap Sammy."

"Kidnap Sammy?" John asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "But I thought you were going to have some sort of, fight with Dean?"

"Fight with Dane?" Lucretia asked, tilting her head to the side. "Why would I fight with him?"

Funny. It had almost sounded like she'd said 'Dane' instead of "Dean' there.

"After all Johnny, he is my brother." she said, pacing closer. "And you know how important brothers are don't you?"

John swallowed. It had been years since he'd thought about his own brother, Misha, who'd been killed in combat. Killed in combat indeed. The army didn't accept gay men any more than the marines did, and while of course no one knew for sure, everyone knew who got the most dangerous missions, who got shorted a bit, who got sent home most often in body bags.

"So we're going to kidnap Sam and then Sam and I will leave and you'll, talk to your brother?" John asked. If the monster was the vampire's sister, then why wouldn't she just talk to him straight out?

"No silly." Lucretia paced closer. "We're going to use Sammy to lure Dane out."

John blinked. She was just in front of him now, her lips level with him collarbone. "You, you can't just go talk to Dean?" he asked.

Lucretia laughed. "But silly Johnny, don't you see? If Sam is with Dane, even if you and Sam leave, don't you think Dane will follow?"

Okay, she was definitely calling Dean Dane.

"And you see, if Sam's with Dane, then I can't be." she said, brushing her lips across John's neck.

John started, moving sideways away from her touch, a sort of softly coldness, like the cold of an inner freezer, the kind that didn't burn, but made you want to just fall asleep. He fell to the ground, cursing in the mud. Lucretia giggled behind her hand at him.

"But, but, he's your brother!" John finally said in a rush. "And, you, you want to -" he cut off. It was just unthinkable.

"We can always leave him with Sammy if you want." Lucretia said, her eyes dancing with mirth.

"No!" John barked. Leaving Sam, the last thing he had left of Mary with a monster wasn't going to happen. Even if he hadn't wanted to marry Mary at first, even with the horrible mess the first, accidental and then lost pregnancy had been, the second one had been worth it. Mostly.

"Exactly." Lucretia replied. "You don't want darling Sammy with Dane anymore than I do."

"My Dane," she let out a sigh and John looked away, felling sickened.

"So, what do you need me to do?" John asked, his voice rough.

"Play dead." Lucretia replied and John felt a sharp pain to the side of his head before the blackness overcame him.

Sam sat against the drier, comforted by the humming behind him. You could be cuddled up to Dean right now instead, said a little voice inside of him. You could be cuddle up right next to him, touching those gorgeous abs of his, feeling him hold onto you like something precious, kissing that luscious mouth.

He'd let Dean kiss him only moments before. Let Dean kiss him and cuddle him and it had felt SO good, no to be alone in this. He'd long since grown too old to be cuddle by his grandmother after all and John had never been the cuddling sort. That left Dean.

Dean, who he had let walk out of the door because he didn't know what else to do. How could he trust him? Dean had admitted to making him forget about finding out Dean was a vampire.

Sam could bet he knew how that had happened, even if Dean had professed to not have bit him. Maybe he'd gotten close and then Sam had stopped him. Though it galled Sam to think it had taken him so long to figure it out. Some Winchester he was; couldn't even tell a vampire from a human when he saw one.

A sudden noise made Sam look up.

There was a girl standing there, one arm holding onto something just out of sight. A girl no older than 15 or 16, dressed in an old-fashioned burgundy red dress with white and red underskirts peaking out over dark red boots.

"Hello Sammy," she said.

"Are you, do you know Dean?" Sam asked, puzzled. Dean hadn't mentioned anyone else was here.

The girl's smile grew wider. "Yes, I know Dean." she said.

"So," Sam asked, trailing off. "Does he want me for something?" he asked.

"Dane?" she asked and shook her head, making her dark hair swish back and forth enticingly over her back. "No, he doesn't want you."

Sam frowned in confusion. "Then why are you here."

"Because I'm going to kill your father." she replied, pulling John's prone body forward.

Sam jumped to his feet, feeling his leg ache from the cut from before. He'd almost forgotten about it. He'd have to watch his arm as well. Never mind Dean's mind games now, Sam would be willing to forgive him all that if only he'd left Sam with a knife!

"Come on now Sammy," She said. "Here, you can have him," she finished, tossing John like a sack of potatoes at Sam.

Sam caught John awkwardly before his head hit the washer and lowered him to the ground. He stepped over his father, moving forward so he was between the girl and John.

"So Sammy, now that you have your father, you don't need Dane do you now?" the girl asked brightly. "So I can have him."

"What!" Sam asked. This girl was making no sense at all. "No, you, you can't have Dean!"

The girl pouted, her hands behind her back so she looked every inch the little girl thwarted of a sweet. She clucked her tongue. "But that's not fair Sammy boy."

"How about this," she said brightly, "You catch me and you can have Dean," With that she was gone, running down the hallway, giggling.

Sam moved out of the laundry room, closing the door behind him. The further the, whatever she was, from John the better.

The girl was waiting at the end of the corridor for him to follow, her cheeks bright.

"You know, if I get to Dane first, he might not even want you." she said and began up the stairs, moving impossibly fast. "He might not even be alive to appreciate it either!" she called back.

Sam followed. Whoever, whatever this girl was, she certainly wasn't good news. And if she was after Dean, well, Sam wasn't about to abandon him just because he was angry with him now. Sort of angry with him.

He came to the top of the stairs and looked around for the girl.

"Over here Sammy," she said, pushing him forward.

Sam stumbled, moving away from a footstool and towards a pair of glass doors.

Lucretia appeared in front of him, moving towards the doors. "Come on now Sammy, catch me if you caannnn!" she sang, darting out the door beyond his reach.

Sam followed, sliding the door open.

Suddenly his arms were full of the girl, she was pressed to his chest like a limpet, her arms around him tightly.

"Got you." she said, showing her fangs, and Sam felt the world begin to slide around him.

Afternotes:

No, John is NOT dead. Yet. As for the 'Lucretia getting Sam outside thing' it's because Dean's house is like Hogwarts; you cannot apparate inside of Hogwarts (unless you're a House Elf or Phoenix), though keyed to Dean specifically not to House Elves. There are no House Elves, probably.


	19. Chapter 19: Dean Makes A Choice

**Chapter 19: Dean Makes a Choice**

Dean shook the human roughly and slapped him across the face. He'd found John Winchester in the laundry room where he'd left Sam a few hours ago. There was no sign of Sam.

Dean cursed under his breath and let the human slump to the floor. The man was useless. He'd been unconscious when Dean had found him, and Dean hadn't been able to wake him since. Without the information he could've gotten from John, Dean was lost. If only he'd bitten Sam before, he might've been able to track him through the bond, but he hadn't...

Dean glared at the body and began searching his pockets. If he had a cell phone and he hadn't erased the memory, it might show whom he'd last been talking to.

John's pockets turned up a cell phone, badly encoded and scratched up. Dean slipped it into his own pocket before giving the man a once-over. While he had no reason to like the man, the way Sammy had cried over his supposed death made Dean hesitant. If he left him like this Sam might get mad, but what was he supposed to do with a beaten up human?

Dean noticed an odd red flush on the left side of John's neck and tugged his shirt line lower, the old material ripping easily. Below the flush was dark, bruise-colored skin leading to an odd bite-mark. The bite seemed to be like the ones dogs made, although with less teeth, almost as though a young (and stupid) vampire had tried to eat a person like a steak and stopped halfway.

But with the dark coloring, and the way it had bled upward made no sense. Vampires had mild anticoagulants and anesthetics, but no poisons...

John's head had barely hit the floor again when Dean left the room.

Sam awoke to darkness. His head ached as though he'd been drinking all night and his tongue was a dry slug in his mouth. He opened his eyes gingerly, to see nothing...

A little giggle made him jerk his head to the side, or as far to the side as his head could get. A sudden light made sharp pain shoot through his head.

Sam blinked blurrily to see the same girl as before, now looking very sallow in the electric light.

"What in the hell is going on?" Sam asked, "Where's Dean?"

The girl pouted. "You're not very polite Sammy,"

"And Dean's coming. Soon. And then things will be all over for you and just beginning for me, for us..." she sighed.

Sam wrinkled his nose. The girl talked about Dean like she was in love with him, but Sam couldn't imagine Dean doing anything with a girl as young as her...

"Who are you anyway?" Sam asked curiously.

The girl's eyes widened. "I'm Dean's little sister Lucretia silly," she replied. "Hasn't he told you about me? We're in love." There was a mad glow to her eyes now, the effect of the lights. "How he took care of me for all of those years, and made sure I was alive, and then after I died..." she trailed off. Sam could see the broken blood vessels surrounding the iris of her eyes, making them appear like a stylized red sun.

"What are you is more the question then," Sam said, avoiding the subject of incest. He supposed they were both dead and such, but it still made him a bit awkward, the idea of a younger sibling, one who was definitely 10 or so years younger going after her big brother...

"Good question Sammy." was the reply. "Hmm, should I wait for Dean, and make you our first meal, or take a bite first myself?" she asked, stepping further into the light. The skin over her cheeks was stretched tight and looked dead yellow, the color of an old bruise in the light.

"I can see you looking." she said to Sam. "I need a little snack to keep myself looking pretty for Dane."

"Why are you calling him Dane?" Sam croaked.

Lucretia ignored him. "Maybe if I just take a small bite, or a cut..." she mused, reaching a hand into the darkness beside her and bringing out a large, dirty knife, the edge encrusted with blood.

Sam's eyes widened at the sight and he started struggling as she came closer. He choked on the rotting stench of her. She really did smell like the inside of an old funeral home, all chemicals and old, rotting body. Not the shit-and-blood smell of the newly dead, or even the cold-copper smell of dead vampires, but the smell of dry-rotting human flesh.

She moved closer, pulling his arm forward, the chain yanked out of the wall and bit down hard on the inner crook of his elbow. Sam gasped and immediately tried to pull away. Whatever the fucking bitch was, she certainly wasn't a vampire! It fucking hurt!

When she finally let his arm go, it curled in reflexively. Lucretia was leaning against the table, panting, with blood dripping down her chin.

Sam moaned and saw the world begin to wave before his eyes. Lucretia picked up the knife, a bloated, distorted figure as though seen through a soap bubble and brought it up to the edge of his jaw.

"Maybe just a little more," she said with a fanatic grin, her teeth huge and rotting.

Dean drove the Impala along the broken down road, wincing at each bump that he just knew was ruining the underside of his car. He'd tracked the last few calls John had made and gotten nowhere. Some random named Bobby Singer, Sam's cellphone company (no wonder how he'd found Dean then), he hadn't even bothered to check in with his remaining family.

He'd thrown the cell phone against the wall, breaking it into little bits, before throwing it into the wall safe Stupid, but he hadn't had another lead at the time. Then the wall safe had started chirping at him about vampiric identification.

It turned out a Revenant, one of the vampires made from a dead or dying body had touched it. Revenants were more like zombies than real vampires. They couldn't walk in the sun, and their bodies required constant blood and flesh to remain in a semblance of life, rotting at they grew hungrier. They also had a tendency to go mad over the years, becoming more and more like animals. They were the sort of vampire that gave vampires a bad name.

He'd hooked the little trace into the Network, and managed to get a metaphysical trace on it, oddly enough it had turned up at one of the abandoned farmhouses near his own property.

Clearly the person was trying to lead him into a trap, wasn't taking him as enough of a threat.

Dean's hands tightened on the wheel of the car. They'd figure out exactly how much of a threat he was soon enough.

Dean snuck down the stairs, a machete at his waist. The farmhouse hadn't been hard to find; with the dead cows (ripped into gory, bone-splintered messes) from the surrounding area it was almost like a welcome matt. A very creepy welcome matt.

At the bottom of the stairs was a dark room, a bloody table on one side and Sam strapped to the wall with bits of scrap metal bent out of shape by some inhumane force.

Beside him, a bare silhouette in the dark was a girl, blood dripping down over her red mouth in a parody of make-up.

"Dane," the girl breathed, showing sharp bloody teeth. Her eyes were a deep brown color, almost red in the light.

"I started without you Dane, " she said. "I just needed a little snack and he tastes so nice,"

Dean blinked. No one had called him Dane in over a century, not since he'd left his own master at least. He didn't even like to use the name as a pseudonym like he did Daniel and other variants.

There was something familiar about the girl. Her skin was paler than he remembered, her eyes darker, and her hair more ordered, like a picture conjured in someone's mind rather than an actual person.

"Lucy?" Dean asked, his head cocked to one side.

Lucy ran up to Dean and wrapped her arms around him. "We can eat him Dane," she said, a breathless whisper along his throat, hot and bloody. "We can eat him and be together, you'll never have to leave me again,"

Dean's hands found her shoulders and he pushed her back to look down at his little sister.

She'd changed so much from the girl he remembered from the winter. Her skin wasn't the dust-color from illness over her tan. Her eyes were a dark red instead of the chocolate he remembered, now swirling with depths of madness. The little bits of baby fat he remembered had vanished, and even her nose seemed slimmer and more refined.

And she was looking at him. She was looking at hi as though he wasn't her big brother but something more. She had the same lips as he did, he noticed, plush and round, and turned red with blood.

Sam's blood.

Dean torn his gaze away from her to look at Sam, slumped against the wall unconscious.

Lucy's eyes followed his own. "You're right!" she exclaimed. "It'll be better with him awake!"

She knelt beside Sam to pinch one of the nerves in the side of his neck. "Come on Sammy," she crooned. "Wakey, wakey"

Sam groaned and his eyelashes fluttered open, his head moving away from the stench of her breath.

"D'n," he mumbled, his eyes focusing and head moving up. Dean winced and looked away.

"Come on Dane, don't you want a taste?" Lucy asked, holding out her knife to him, the edges riddled with nicks. "He tastes SO good Dane, a little bit of shiny light at the start and then a tiny aftertaste of dark, like a good wine."

Dean hesitated and took the knife, his hands closing over the bloody hilt, slipping for a moment before tightening.

Sam's breath hitched in his throat. "Dean," he breathed and Dean looked back at Lucy, all girlish innocence and delight, like a little girl at a birthday party promised extra cake.

Lucy's eyes grew hard as Dean stood undecided in the middle of the floor. On one side was his little sister, clearly mad and infected and pushing him towards torture, and on the other was Sammy, bound and beaten up and probably STILL angry at him.

"Choose then Dane, me or him?" his sister challenged, her eyes burning into his.

Dean's gaze shifted to Sam's. He was chained to the wall, his head slumped over his chest. His hazel eyes caught Dean's and he held them for a moment before looking down.

Dean lifted the blade, looking back at his sister. "You're right," he said. "You're right," and reached an arm around her back, pulling her close. She was his little sister after all. The hand with the knife came closer to her back, a few more inches and it would be pressing into her spine.

"Come on Dane," she breathed, "We can do it together,"

The blade bit into her back, puncturing her spine and moving up towards her heart. Dean felt the life begin to leave her when the knife cut into the first walls of her desiccated heart. His hand was almost inside her. Her eyes caught his, a burning red.

"Why?" she asked, a dying breath of air on his cheek.

"Because I haven't been Dane for a very long time," he answered, just as quietly. The knife dug in deeper. "Bitch."

He walked back over to Sam, who was now wearing a grin.

"You know, for a moment, I almost thought..." Sam trailed off, Dean's arms around him, twisting the metal back out of shape and out of the walls.

"I know. Me too." Dean replied, wrapping his arms around Sam briefly before letting go.

Afternotes:

Yes, Sam in this version is against Incest. Bad me, considering most supernatural fics. I argue however that Sam/Dean cannot get pregnant and have children under normal situations (aka, resulting in inbreeding), whereas Dean/Lucy would have been able to, plus the 25 year old/15 year old, a bit icky...no offense to those of you who were routing for Dean/Lucy.


	20. Chapter 20: Bubbles and Bedrooms

**Chapter 20: Bubbles and Bedrooms**

Reviewing = awesome. Thanks to everyone who has done so so far.

Sam moaned softly as he slipped into the warm water. He turned to the side, clutching at Dean's hands. "Stay," he said. "I might, just fall asleep here."

Dean's lips quirked upwards. "Just gotta get my pants off Sammy," he replied, and Sam clung to the side of the tub until Dean returned, slipping into the water beside him.

Dean curled an arm around Sam, pulling him closer and moving a wet cloth across Sam's chest.

"God you're a mess Sammy." Dean murmured against his ear and Sam let his head drop down onto Dean's shoulder, slipping further into the water.

Dean's hand moved lower as he shifted Sam back upwards. "Hey, hey wake up Sam, wake up Sammy." he said, slapping Sam's face lightly with his other, soapy hand. "You don't want to fall asleep right now."

"Why don't you just do to the, mind, thingy, and make me." Sam said, waving a hand vaguely in the air.

"Can't do that Sammy." was the reply.

"Mhm, can't or won't?" Sam asked, opening his eyes halfway to look at Dean. It was weird to be facing him level instead of looking up at him like usual.

"Won't." Dean replied softly, letting Sam slump further into the water.

"D'you, do you want your hair washed too Sammy?" Dean asked hesitantly to fill the awkward moment.

Sam let his eyes close again and vaguely nodded his head in a downward motion.

Taking it as a yes, Dean rubbed his hands slowly through Sam's hair.

Sam moaned and his hand slipped down between Dean's legs. Dean stiffened and moved to the side. Sam's hand followed. "Sam." Dean said, "You're hurt."

Sam looked up at him lazily through wet bangs. "Not much. Want this." he replied, moving his hand back. "Want this so much."

Sam's hand grasped Dean's cock and slowly, ever so slowly, drew a length along it. "I've missed you." Sam breathed against Dean's shoulder, slumping onto him.

Dean's cock jerked in response and Sam's hand tightened for a moment before loosening and drifting off in the water.

"Sam, come on, Sammy," Dean said. "Wake up, come on." he said, shaking Sam slightly, Sam's head snapping back and forth a bit.

"Mhm, sorry, just, so tired," Sam replied, letting his head fall back down onto Dean's shoulder. "Maybe later,"

Dean almost growled in annoyance. First he was too pissed to let Dean touch him, then he was too sick to do anything. It was starting to grate on his nerves.

"Come on then sleepy," he said finally, slipping his hands under Sam's arms and pulling him out of the water.

"Whee," Sam said, letting his head flop to the side when Dean picked him up.

"Try to stand up Sammy," Dean said, stumbling slightly. It wasn't that Sam was heavy; as a vampire he could easily bench press a four-wheeler. But there was so much of him it was cumbersome trying to pick him up.

"Mhm," Sam muttered against Dean's chest, his wet feet slipping on the floor.

"Just, hang on," Dean muttered under his breath, finally grabbing Sam's upper thigh and swinging him up half-over his shoulder like a little kid.

"This is not comfortable," Sam said, his lips brushing along Dean's vertebrae.

"Uh huh," Dean replied, struggling not to hold onto Sam with grabbing anything he shouldn't.

Dean stopped before Sam's bed, and shifted his shoulder forward, throwing Sam onto the bed.

"Ouch," Sam hissed, bouncing.

Dean flopped down on the bed beside him. "Mhm, ouch where?" he asked, nuzzling against Sam's neck, licking the cut along his jaw.

Sam stiffened, moving away from Dean. Undeterred, Dean moved down to his chest and began planting small kisses and licks along his abdomen.

"She bit me," Sam mumbled, and Dean stopped, sitting up to take a better look at Sam.

"Where?" Dean asked breathlessly and Sam lifted his arm in response.

Dean grabbed his arm and pulled it across Sam's body to look at it. There were six small punctures, surrounded by little scrapes and indentations where flesh had been ripped out in the crook of his elbow.

Unlike John's bite it wasn't the same bloody-bruise color underneath, and the veins nearby didn't look darker (blood poisoning).

Sam leaned forward over his arm to latch his lips onto Dean's. Sam's lips moved slowly across Dean's nibbling on his lower lip before sucking it into his mouth. Dean moved his head, trying to get closer and Sam's head fell down, his lips finding Dean's clavicles and sucking at the center lightly.

Sam moved his head back onto the pillow and flopped down, leaving a cold wet spot on Dean untended.

"Sam," Dean said, wondering why he'd stopped. "Sammy," Dean nudged his side and Sam sighed, an arm loosely moving around Dean's side.

"Guess you really are tired," Dean muttered and let his head fall down onto Sam's chest.

Sam awoke feeling fuzzy and warm. Beside him was Dean, an arm wrapped around him, his head on Sam's chest.

Sam smirked and watched the vampire sleep. Despite the weeks they'd spent together at Dean's motel, he'd rarely woken up to Dean asleep next to him. Dean almost always woke up before Sam did, or just a few moment after he did.

He could see why. Dean's chest wasn't rising, and he felt colder than usual. Not the hungry cold he associated with the time Dean had threatened to bite him, but just a slowed cold feeling, like a hibernating bear.

Sam watched as Dean's eyelashes fluttered for a moment before snapping open.

"Guess I'm not the only sleepy one." Sam said lightly.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, further messing it up. One side had been pressed flat while the other stood up in little spikes. "I meant to be awake before you." he replied, moving off of Sam.

"You usually are." Sam replied, watching Dean roll over to his side of the bed, still wearing his jeans from last night.

"You know, I," Sam started and then stopped, ducking his head down to hide behind his bang. He tried again. "Last night..."

Dean shot him a questioning look.

"Um," Sam glanced up at Dean from under his bangs.

Dean reached a hand out to cup Sam's cheek, carefully avoiding the cut along his jaw.

Hazel eyes met bright green and Sam leaned forward, his lips millimeters from Dean's.

"I've missed this," he whispered against Dean's mouth and their lips met. Sam's tongue slipped into Dean's mouth and moved along his teeth, sucking as the fangs that had descended.

"Careful," Dean breathed, breaking the kiss.

Sam kissed the side of Dean's jaw instead, before moving his hand up under Dean's shirt, caressing his chest before finding a nipple.

Dean reached down Sam's pants to wrap his hand around Sam's cock. He drew his hand along it ever-so slowly, rubbing the pads of his fingers under the base until he came to the tip. He swiped his thumb-nail against the tip and Sam's hips bucked forward.

Dean smirked and brought his other hand up along Sam's thigh, pushing his back down onto the bed. "Not yet," he whispered, and drew a line along Sam's jaw with his tongue.

Dean grasped the base of Sam's cock between his thumb and forefinger and reached his middle finger back to stroke the perineum.

"Ahhhh," Sam moaned.

Dean's finger moved further back and circled Sam's hole. Sam pushed downward onto it and gasped.

"Hang on Sammy," Dean breathed, and half-rolled off of Sam to open the drawer of the bedside table for lube.

"How long have you been planning this?" Sam asked suspiciously, propping himself up on one elbow. For a house that didn't even have a stocked kitchen to have lube was a bit weird.

Dean grinned in response. "Haven't" he replied. "There just tends to be lube in most of the bedrooms."

Dean moved back over to Sam and twisted the cap off the bottle, little crackles of dried lube falling onto the bed.

Sam bent his knees and opened his legs, letting Dean settle between them to empty the bottle on him.

Dean licked a line up Sam's abdomen, slowly pushing a single finger inside him.

Sam moaned and grasped Dean's biceps, pulling him closer. "Want you Dean," he whispered. "Stop fiddling around."

Dean withdrew the finger and lined himself up, pushing ever-so slowly past the rim.

He stopped once there, barely in, feeling Sam's chest rise beneath him.

"Okay?" he asked, only for Sam's hands to slide down his waist, his nails digging in.

"Guess that's a yes," Dean muttered to himself and obliged before Sam bit down on his lower lip.

"Shut up Dean," Sam said, his tongue tickling around Dean's mouth. Sam's hands found Dean's ass and pulled him in closer, till he was almost completely inside Sam.

Sam moaned and his grip loosened, allowing Dean to take the reigns, moving back and forth inside him.

Sam moved one hand around back up to Dean's chest and grasped the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue found Dean's and he sucked it into his mouth.

Dean came with a start, a hot rush inside Sam and slipped out, moving to lie beside Sam on the bed.

"I've missed this too," Dean mumbled against Sam's ear, a warm huff of air.

"Mhm," Sam mumbled, wrapping his arms around Dean. "Want to go again?"

End Chapter


	21. Chapter 21: John is Dealt With

**Chapter 21: John Is Dealt With and Dean Explains Some Things**

A/N

Sorry for the delay. I am moving! While large portions of the sequel of this are written, only chapter one has been finished.

Dean stopped on the stairs, causing Sam to jostle him.

"Hey," Sam exclaimed. "Don't you want breakfast? 'Cause I haven't eaten since, what, two nights ago? Something like that."

"Uh, yeah, but," Dean said, continuing his descent down the stairs. "Well, John's in the basement."

"What!" Sam exclaimed, coming to the bottom of the stairs. "And you just decided not to mention this bec-"

Sam stopped. He ran his one hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in a rather stupid fashion. "I'd forgotten." he said.

"Lucretia, Lucy, whoever, she had him before she got me."

Dean nodded. "I thought it was something like that."

"So I suppose we'd better go get him." Sam sighed. He was clearly not looking forward to dealing with his father. If his reaction during the fight had been any indication he wasn't pleased about Dean being a vampire. Plus he'd been kidnapped by Lucretia, and used as bait. John was bound to be in a bad mood when he woke up.

"Should we go for diner food first then?" Sam asked. "Go for take-out and bring it back? I mean, he's going to end up yelling in public and, yeah, it's going to suck enough already."

Dean looked at Sam consideringly. "You don't seem that worried about him."

Sam flushed. "He's been out what, a day? Half an hour won't make a difference."

"And you don't want to deal with your father." he said lightly.

Sam winced. "Do you have to put such an emphasis on it? Yeah, I don't want to deal with him. I mean, he's going to be PISSED as HELL, worse than when I went to Stanford-"

"You went to Stanford?" Dean interrupted. He knew Sam was smart, if inexperienced about the Occult, but university wasn't something he'd expected.

"Yeah, a while ago." Sam said distractedly. "Didn't work out." He bit his lip. "What I don't get is why he was so out of it when Lucretia was dragging him around."

"She bit him too," Dean said.

Sam looked up in alarm. "Was it bad? Did he wake up? Did you-"

"No idea." Dean interrupted. "It looked worse than yours, but it wasn't a feeding bite, I think."

"So he could wake up all, ghoul-ish?" Sam asked.

"Lucy wasn't a ghoul." Dean replied. "She was a sort of, well, it gets called a Mongrel vampire half the time-"

"What's a Mongrel vampire?" Sam asked.

"A really wussy vampire." Dean said shortly. "Like Vlad. I'll explain that later."

"Basically, Lucy was dead, and THEN was changed, which is not how it normally happens- don't interrupt please- and was what we call a 'Revenent.' They're a bit like a really bad Mongrel; mindless, can't stand the sunlight, they get more animal-like when they're hungry-"

"I, is that what you were doing with that girl?" Sam asked. "The one in that bar?"

Dean winced. "Sort of."

"So you can go crazed too then," Sam stated.

"I'll explain all of this later okay Sammy?" Dean asked. "This is not a before-breakfast discussion, for either of us, plus John-"

"Yeah, dealing with John." Sam said, looking as though he very much would've liked to ignore it a bit longer.

"Listen, take the Impala out, okay Sammy?" Dean asked. "Go and get breakfast for all of us, and I'll deal with your father." Dean said finally. After last night he doubted Sam would run off, and if he did, well, Dean would deal with it.

"You sure?" Sam asked. Considering how Dean treated his car Sam hadn't expected to be allowed behind the wheel anytime soon.

"Yeah, just don't, do anything stupid." Dean said, pulling the keys out of his pocket and holding them out.

"And, get me some pie." he finished.

Sam grinned in response and took the keys.

Dean watched Sam drive off in the Impala through the front window and then started down the stairs to the basement where John was. Truth be told, if the bite wasn't a feeding bite like Sam's, John could very well be Changing into a Revenant, though a far worse one than Lucy. There were so many ways you could turn someone into a vampire, and so many of them resulting in a crazed, animalistic, MESS it was no wonder they had the reputation they did. Even the romantisized ones in the "Twilight" books still displayed characteristics of rapists and murderers.

When he reached the laundry room Dean flipped on the lights to find John still passed out on the floor, his arm now a slightly swollen mess. Around the bite-mark it had liquified slightly, leaking pus, blood, and bits of arm onto the floor. Dean gagged at the stench.

It was definitely not a feeding bite. John was Changing into a Revenant, and would soon become an even worse nightmare than he already was.

Dean sat down on top of the drier. While John posed no risk to him, he would pose one to Sammy, when John woke up. And Sam wouldn't want to kill his father, regardless of what he was.

If Dean had still been in contact with his Sire (or any vampires really) he would've called one of them. But most of his business associates wouldn't take kindly to his asking something along the lines of 'how do you stop a person bitten y a Revenant from becoming one?' Besides, he was in hiding for now, laying low.

Dean hopped off the dryer and leaned down closer to John. He smelled even worse up clos; pus and blood and rot, and oddly enough fish.

Dean reached a hand around to John's neck to check his vital signs. If he hadn't been dead when he was bitten his heart might still be pumping and there was that witch who'd brought a vampire back when they realized the person had been pregnant before the Change...

Lost in thought, Dean began to examine the body.

Sam walked through the front door bearing several bags of take out food. Pancakes with two kinds of syrup, boxed strawberry sauce, a can of whipped cream, sausages and eggs. The coffee he'd left in the car.

"Dean," he called, awkwardly opening the door with a full hand. "I've got breakfast!"

Sam walked into the front room (what he supposed was the kitchen, if the bay window and cast-iron stove were anything to go by) and dropped the bags on the table.

"Dean?" he called again. He knew vampires were supposed to have super-hearing and if Dean was as hungry for breakfast as he was (he'd snacked in the car)...

A loud crash made him look towards the basement. If John had woken up, the first thing he'd do was attack Dean. Sam raced towards the stairs leading to the basement, throwing open the door to reveal Dean at the bottom of the stairs wrestling with John.

John was on top of Dean clearly winning the fight. Bits of John's arm were dripping off onto Dean in spatters of yellow, probably where Lucretia had bitten him Sam surmised.

"Sam, get out of here!" Dean yelled, his face red under the gooey pus.

John snarled making angry noises like a cat in heat and LEAPED off of Dean like he'd seen Dean do during that fight, his teeth bared, flying at Sam.

Sam crashed down on the floor, John snarling on top of him, drooling flying in driblets from his open mouth. Sam could see his teeth had changed to something resembling sharp splinters of bone set in bloody gums, topped in the front of course by two vampiric fangs.

Dean appeared quickly behind John, tackling him and sending them into the cast iron stove.

John was the first to his feet, making an aborted leap towards Sam before Dean caught him, shoving him back.

"I mean it Sam!" Dean yelled over John's snarling. "Get –Out –Of Here!"

Sam looked instead at the various countertops for drawers. If there was knife inside one he could help subdue his father. John couldn't be so far gone that he'd-"

A loud crash startled Sam out of his revere as John came hurling at him, knocking him to the floor for the second time. Sam punched wildly at John, catching him low in the throat.

Dean's face appeared again over John's shoulder, his vampiric teeth visible now as he bit into John's shoulder.

John gave a howl and shot off of Sam, jumping through the Bay window with a loud crash and running off through the forrest.

"And that Sammy, is one of your problems during a fight." Dean panted, "You are always thinking too much. Instead of reacting."

Sam scowled. He wasn't a weakling, or an idiot, though Dean seemed to think he was based on his experience with Hunting.

"Hand me some of those napkins will you?" Dean asked, gesturing towards the bags of food Sam had dumped on the table.

Sam did so. "I'm not an idiot Dean, nor a weak-"

"Yeah yeah, I know," Dean interrupted, most of the pus off before going to the tap to begin washing the rest off. Remembering the drool on him, Sam grabbed a napkin for himself. "But you still kind of suck. You're nowhere near where you should be to be out Hunting." Dean spat into the sink, ridding himself of the taste of Revenant.

Sam opened his mouth to reply angrily when Dean sat down at the table. "I know, I know, all right?" he said. "Do we HAVE to argue about this NOW? Because I for one want breakfast" With that, Dean proceeded to open one of the bags and pull out the contents.

"Ah, pancakes," he said. "Where's the pie?"

"There wasn't any." Sam said, wearing bitchface #27.

Dean gave him a look.

Sam looked away. "Fine. I ate it in the car on the drive over."

Dean gave Sam a look that promised many, many things.

"I don't see why you have to eat anyway," Sam continued, "You're dead, aren't you?"

"Sort of." Dean replied. "Listen, what do you know about vampires anyway Sammy? There's a hell of a lot Hunters get wrong and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know," Sam replied, flapping a hand at Dean and sitting down at the table. He opened the second bag to pull out the sausages, silently passing half to Dean. "Right, the coffee's still in the car-" he started, getting out of his seat. Dean was gone in a flash and back in a second, the coffee in hand.

"Got it." he replied cheekily and Sam sat back down.

"You've missed some of the pus you know." Sam said.

Dean leaned over the counter, wiping the remaining pus off his face with one of the napkins Sam had handed him. "Listen Sam, your father's a Revenant now, the same as Lucy was. It's not revers-"

"My father's a WHAT!" Sam exclaimed, standing up abruptly and then wavering. He grabbed the tabletop with one hand and closed his eyes.

"Take it easy Sammy," Dean said, instantly at his side, one arm around his waist. "You're still weak."

"No really?" Sam asked sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed.

"We have to go after him Dean! I mean, I know he's a class-act dick but he's my father and I'm not about to leave him out there!"

Dean wanted to smack Sam upside the head. "I know, okay? I get it." he said through clenched teeth, letting Sam sink back down into his seat before returning to his own. "God you are an ASS in the morning" he muttered under his breath.

"Then why-" Sam started before Dean cut him off.

"Because he's a REVENANT, that's why" Dean said loudly. "Right now, he's off in the forest killing Bambi and company, and he'll kill you too if you go near him."

Sam scoffed. "Kill me Dean? He's my father. I mean, I know he's pissed but he can't be that pissed." Sam opened his styrafoam container and poured a liberal amount of syrup over it.

"It doesn't matter Sam," Dean said. "He's feeding right now. He won't know the difference."

Sam looked startled and Dean's voice softened. "He woudn't, even if he were a Standard vampire."

"Standard vampire?" Sam asked.

"Basically me," Dean replied around a mouthful of pancakes. "It's a vampire that comes from a line of vampires. Each 'line' has slightly different powers. In general we all drink blood, almost always human-"

"Some of you can drink animal blood then?" Sam asked. "So you don't have to kill people."

"We don't kill people normally Sammy. We're not suppose to, the Accords banned it." Dean replied.

"Accords?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Rules for vampires. And other stuff. I'll explain it later." Dean said. "Some of us can drink say, shape-shifter blood, or other vampire's blood, or demon's blood, with certain, side effects. Other lines it might kill. Animal blood doesn't really work, except in a pinch. It's like, trying to go uber-vegan in a world without vitamin supplements and tofu and so on. Doesn't work that well."

Sam nodded, taking a sip of coffee.

"Point being is that each line is different. Most of us can walk in sunlight, but nt all of us."

"Then why couldn't Vlad and his gang walk around in it?" Sam asked. "I've always heard vampires couldn't go near sunlight, not direct anyway."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, that's because he's a Mongrel, and all of his brood are Mongrels too. It's when a vampire, a really weak, or a really new vampire makes other vampires. They aren't ready for it chemically, and so you end up with an even weaker vampire. They're kind of like Dracula's servants, from the book I mean."

"Mindless leeches?" Sam asked.

"Something like that." Dean replied. "And as for Revenants, they are the result of a dead person being changed into a vampire, or else if someone killed a vampire, took their blood and drank it. They're worse than Mongrels, since they start rotting if they don't feed."

"So what happens if you don't feed?" Sam asked. "On blood anyway, and what's with the food?"

"I'm getting to that. If I don't feed I end up turning feral, or if I couldn't feed, if I were locked up or something, I'd dry up until I got blood." Dean explained. "And the food, it's a perk. It tastes nice. And it helps a bit with the want for blood, and some of the normal stuff. If I didn't I'd get paler, my eye's would get bloodshot..." he trailed off.

"Basically you'd end up looking like Dracula." Sam finished.

"Yeah."

Sam picked up a pancake with one hand, twirling a sausage up inside it like a wrap. "Um, have you ever, bitten me?" he asked tentatively.

Dean shook his head in reply. "I already told you. All I've done is wipe your mind when you found out in the shower and made you pass out a few times."

"Why not?" Sam asked, still holding the wrap up defensively in front of himself. "Do you, not want to, I, d I taste bad or something?"

Dean smiled, jerking his chair closer to Sam's and leaning his head against Sam's shoulder. "I'd LOVE to bite you Sammy," he said and felt more than heard a sharp intake of breath from Sam.

He nuzzled up closer to Sam's neck, wrapped his arm loosely around Sam's waist. "But I didn't want to bite you when you didn't know what I was, and maybe risk hurting you killing you,"

Sam jerked away from Dean, his scared eyes meeting Dean's.

"Dean," Sam started and broke off, his throat suddenly dry.

"Relax," Dean said. "I'm not going to bite you, unless you want me to." Dean got out his chair, leaving his hand on Sam's shoulder. "We can talk about it later, 'kay Sammy," he said, as Sam opened his mouth. "Finish your breakfast."

"Where are you going?" Sam croaked as Dean strode towards the door.

"To get the rest of my breakfast Sammy-boy," Dean said, winking. "You're in no condition to be it."

End Chapter

Afternotes:

The witch who brought a vampire back is a loose reference to Amelia Atwater-Rhodes book about Aubrey and Jessica "Demon in My View." She is an AWESOME author.

Also, I think John was originally bitten in the neck, and then I ended up moving it to the arm in later chapters sorry!


	22. Chapter 22: Whipped Cream Aftermath

**Chapter 22: Whipped Cream Aftermath**

A/N

This is the last chapter of Tantalus, and then onto Oedeopus, the sequel!

Sam had barely finished repacking the remains of breakfast back into the take-outs bags (leaving the whipped cream on the counter) to be thrown out before Dean appeared in the doorway, looking better than he had in days.

"I guess you really do need to keep up with the feeding huh?" he asked, twirling the top of the paper bag closed.

"Uh huh," Dean replied.

"So where do you want me to put these?" Sam asked, holding up the newly chistened trash bag in one hand.

"Leave it," Dean gestured.

"So," Sam said, putting the bag back down.

"Do we go and hunt John down now?" he asked after a substantial pause.

"No." Dean replied firmly. "He's still going to be feral for a few days yet."

"Then what," Sam asked, getting up. He hurridly (quickly) grabbed the top of his chair as his vision started going dark.

Dean grabbed onto his side, slipping in under his arm. "Careful there Sammy," he said, shifting so Sam could lean on him.

"Why is this having an effect on me now," Sam asked when they'd reached the stairs.

Dean paused on the foot of the stairs. "Why's what having an effect?" he asked.

"The bite," Sam asked, reaching a hand out to grab the railing.

"It's not the bite," Dean replied. "It's the tackling from John you got. You probably smacked your head into something."

"I think you can let go now Dean" Sam said, pulling away slightly.

Dean rubbed his stubbly cheek against Sam's neck. "What if I don't want to?" he asked. "You did eat my pie after all."

Sam melted against Dean, leaning down to catch Dean's lips with him. Dean sucked Sam's tongue into his mouth for a moment before beginning to caress Sam's tongue with his own.

"Still can't taste it," Dean said, breaking the kiss.

"It's all the mint," Sam replied breathlessly. "Does that mean you went and-?" he broke off.

Dean drew back. "Yeah,"

"Out of what?" Sam asked curiously. "You said you can't go off and eat Bambi and you weren't gone that long so,"

"I stole a few bags off the local blood bank when I got your KFC," Dean replied, leaning back in to lick a line up Sam's throat. "Stashed them in one of the wall safes."

Dean licked across Sam's clavicle and stopped, pulling back with a face like he'd just sucked a lemon.

"Eurg, Revenant spit." he said, "We should go take a shower."

Sam rolled his eyes. "We TOOK sho-, bath, last night." he said.

"And you still smell." Dean replied.

Sam glared at him. "As if you smell like roses-" he started.

Dean leaned in to kiss the side of Sam's neck, moving up to suck on his earlobe, just the way he liked it. "Besides," he said, flicking his tongue along the shell-curve of Sam's ear. "We can do a lot of fun stuff in the shower together."

Sam followed Dean into the bathroom, ducking his head to avoid the glass top of the doorway.

The shower was turned on and the hot water rushing down on Sam felt heavenly. The pressure, the heat, was making him feel SO good, his muscles loosening up, even the bite was beginning to feel better. He leaned against the wall of the shower, not wanting to have to put too much effort into standing up when he felt Dean's hands reach around him, a soapy-slick loofa in hand to rub across his stomach.

Sam leaned back into Dean and felt Dean nuzzling across his shoulder before beginning to nip lightly at his neck.

Sam felt incredibly annoyed at that. "Dean, did you REALLY feed?" he asked, turning halfway to pull Dean away from his throat.

"Yeah, I fed Sammy," Dean replied in confusion.

"Good. Because I do NOT want to be bitten." Sam said, his heart rate speeding up a little at saying it out loud.

Dean smirked and glanced at Sam's half erect cock before cocking an eyebrow at him. "Really?" he purred, kissing along Sam's jaw where Lucretia had cut it open.

Sam pulled his head back, using his height to evade Dean. "Yes, REALLY," he snapped and Dean stepped back.

"No licking blood off you either I suppose?" Dean asked mournfully. He brushed a thumb across Sam's jaw, pressing slightly hard on the cut as though hoping it would bleed.

"No." Sam said firmly, taking Dean's cheek in hand, tilting his mouth up for a kiss.

Their tongues danced for a moment before Sam broke the kiss. "Everything else is fine though," he said and Dean nodded briefly before reclaiming his mouth.

Dean's slippery hands moved along Sam's sides, and he stepped forward, pushing Sam up against the wall. His cock lay flush along Sam's thigh and hard and throbbing.

Dean's finger's found Sam's hole and teased the rim lightly. "Still good for more." he asked, kissing a line up along Sam's vertebrae.

Sam moaned in response, parting his legs.

"No, biting," he breathed and felt Dean's arms tighten around him as he chuckled.

"No biting," Dean agreed, pushing the first finger in. "Yet" he whispered, very quietly. Sam pretended not to hear.

Sam followed suite and threw his towel on the floor, flopping down onto the bed. Oddly the can of whipped cream he'd left on the kitchen counter was now on the bedside table.

Dean crawled up to Sam on the bed and reached across him to grab the whipped cream, popping the top off with one hand and shaking it.

"Didn't we just shower?" Sam asked. He liked playing with whipped cream in bed as much as anyone, but it seemed a bit stupid to do so AFTER a shower; they'd just end up sticky and dirty again.

Dean squirted a line of whipped cream down Sam's chest to his abdomen in reply and bent down to lick it off. Once he reached Sam's cock he twirled his tongue expertly along the mushroom tip before sucking it into his mouth.

Sam moaned and let his head fall back down onto the pillows.

Dean let Sam's cock out of his mouth, letting to come up to thwap on his stomach, leaving a squirt of pre-come. He shook the bottle up again and aimed it along Sam's dick, letting it go as a wet spurt.

Dean bent his head back down to lick the whipped cream off of Sam. Sam reached a hand out to steal to the bottle from Dean, his other hand coming up to entangle in Deans short hair. Sam poured the whipped cream into his mouth, moaning in satisfaction.

Dean gave a short nip along Sam's cock, breathing cold air along it before Sam pulled him up to kiss him, whipped cream and pre-come mixing between their lips.

"Can't tell," Sam breathed against the corner of Dean's mouth when he broke the kiss. "Which tastes better."

"You," Dean replied harshly, before spraying a line of whipped cream across Sam's clavicle, following it with his tongue.

Sam wrestled the can out of Dean's hand and pushed him back to press the nozzle into Dean's shoulder, a stream of white jetting across his chest diagonally.

Dean watched Sam's tongue follow it down until it reached his hipbone, and then Sam stopped, using his hand to jerk Dean's cock.

"Cheating," Dean said, reaching for the spray bottle.

"Nuh uh," was Sam's reply before he filled his mouth with whipped cream again. Dean let his head fall back down, expecting a kiss.

Instead Sam encased Dean's cock with his cream-filled mouth, the cold cream melting as it hit his hot flesh.

Dean's hips jerked, the tip of his cock hitting the back of Sam's throat. Sam came up, his face red. Dean's hand reached down, his fingers entangling in Sam's hair. He stole the bottle of whipped cream.

"Come back up silly," he slurred, squeezing a last line back up his chest for Sam to follow. The bottle sputtered and quit, and Dean tossed it to the side, Sam using butterfly kisses to lap up the remains from his chest.

Sam bit Dean's lower lip, drawing it into his mouth and Dean's teeth descended, coming to rest ever so lightly over Sam's upper lip.

Dean reached a hand between them to grasp Sam's dick and flicked a thumb across the tip, causing Sam to jerk up, letting go of Dean's lip. Dean chased Sam's mouth with his own, his other hand coming to rest on Sam's jawline, just below the cut.

Sam mumbled something inaudible and reached a hand to pull Dean's hand away from his jaw, and ended up running his fingers along Dean's lips and teeth.

Dean jerked his hips upwards, and Sam grinned and reached down to jerk him off, his tongue returning to stroke Dean's.

They came together, one just after the other. Sam came to rest his head over Dean's, his neck tantalizingly just inches from Dean's teeth.

Dean moved his head away and up, so Sam came to rest over his shoulder, his teeth away from Sam's throat.

Sam's hand moved along Dean's side in a languid embrace, coming to rest along his side. "Thanks," he said quietly, and Dean smiled.

Afternotes:

I remember somewhat wanted shower sex that didn't culminate in Sam/Dean fighting. Consider this chapter for you. And yes, the plotline shall return soon.


End file.
